HaloSWEndwar
by EtchedInDiamond
Summary: A modified Halcyon-class cruiser carrying a unified crew of humans and former Covenant stumble upon a seemingly abandoned Forerunner costruct world. Little do they know that this discovery will catapult two galaxies in a devastating war. SEQUEL UP!
1. Conquistador

**HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6**

**Sydney, Australia**

**Standard Military Calendar**

**June 14, 2575**

**1934 hours**

The room was pure white, phosphorescent light bathing the small space with stark clarity. In the center of the room was a small, metal desk of the same color, complete with a complementary swivel chair nailed onto the smooth, tiled floor. Seated on the chair was a man in a black uniform. He was middle-aged, small, and slightly balding. What remained of his short hair was graying at the temples. His face was stern and tanned, wrinkled around the edges of his cheeks. He had eyes as gray as flint; his subordinates called him Arrow-Eyes, as his stare seemed to cut right through you. Right now, he was leafing through several sheets of stacked papers, checking if all was right and orderly. He inserted the pile into a thin, manila folder to his right and placed it down on the tabletop. He inhaled steadily, waiting for his appointment to start. Just in time, the door in front of him slid with a beep, and his man stepped inside. A secretary dressed in a black business suit ushered the man in politely, being careful not to impale him with her high heels. She nodded to the seated man and typed in a command in a pad on the wall. She stepped outside and the chrome door closed soundlessly. The newcomer wore a crisp, white uniform, with the insignia of a Fleet Admiral pinned onto his chest. He had wavy, white hair folded back under a formal, navy hat. He had clear blue eyes and a wrinkled and baggy face, lined crudely with years of stress and fatigue. He was, after all, the leader of the UNSC.

"Whatever you may have to say better be worth my time, Admiral," said Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood with a deep sigh.

The man seated behind the desk smiled and stood formally.

"Lord Hood, thank you for coming to meet with me today. I assume you know who I am?" the man spoke with a deep, German accent.

"You are Admiral Eckhardt Nagel, head of ONI's Section III "Black Ops" Division, and also the prime reason why I canceled a meeting with the Sangheili Council." He answered, a hint of impatience in his tone. Nagel noticed this and a small smile tugged at his lips. He gestured the British man toward a chair in front of his desk.

"Come, sir. Sit. We have much to discuss."

Hood grunted and complied. Nagel, satisfied with the arrangements, started.

"As you know, after our war with the Covenant, our alliance with the Separatists has been strong. Threat from inside the Orion Arm seems unlikely now that hostilities with the various races have ended for the time being. However, the mysteries of the Forerunner Empire and The Flood have placed a metaphorical stump before our feet. Our scientists are doing the best they can to unlock Forerunner technology, and even with the help of the Sangheili not much has been found. So, we did what we could: Explore."

"Then we made the United Exploration Organization, a project funded by both the UEG and the Confederation of Allied Species, made up of humans, Kig-Yar, Sangheilis, Unggoy, Separatist Jiralhanae, etcetera. The purpose of this coalition is to venture into the unknown and discover the secrets space holds, whether Forerunner or something else. I am aware of these facts, Mr. Nagel. If I was summoned here to be taught a history lesson, I believe I am wasting valuable time." Hood said, annoyance evident in his voice.

"_Haben sie geduld_, Admiral. Have patience. I am getting to the point." Nagel soothed. He took the folder from the desk and opened it. He gave the stack of folders to the irked Fleet Admiral. His annoyance changed into curiosity as he flipped through the papers.

"What am I seeing here, Eckhardt?" he said softly, eyes scanning the various pictures and words.

"What you are seeing, sir, is highly classified information. This was held secret and known only by a few people. Margaret O. Parangosky, myself, and a few select others."

"But not I," Hood replied.

Nagel grinned and raised both his arms.

"I called you here, no?"

Hood cleared his throat and dropped the folder back on the desk.

"Answer my question, Admiral."

The smile vanished from Nagel's face and he grew serious. He looked through the folder and took out a white sheet of paper and gave it to Hood. On the picture was a photo of a large ship being constructed in what looked like an underground shipyard. Numerous cranes, lifts, trucks, and other construction equipment were gathered around the ship. Workers and personnel swarmed around it like ants. The shape of the ship itself was familiar to Hood, but it was the size that startled him.

"It looks like an oversized Halcyon-class cruiser." He stated bluntly.

"Correct. We didn't have the time and resources to construct a ship solely for the purpose of exploration. So, we took a decommissioned cruiser and modified it. We made some major repairs, added shields, outfitted it with stealth technology, and even upgraded Covenant weaponry. We called it the_ Conquistador_.

Hood shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You are saying this ship is going to be used to explore what's out there?" he asked.

"Wrong."

Hood raised an eyebrow. He was about to speak when Nagel interrupted him.

"The _Conquistador_ has already been sent on its mission to deep space."

Terrence Hood's face grew livid, eyes bulging out of its sockets in surprise.

"WHAT! YOU MEAN THIS SHIP HAS-" he exclaimed.

"Calm down, sir." Nagel said softly.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Admiral Eckhardt! The fact that I wasn't aware of this covert operation before the launch tells me my trust is sorely unappreciated!" he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. Nagel paled considerably but held his ground.

"Do not worry, Lord Hood. _Alles ist gut_."

"Don't speak to me in bloody German, Admiral." Hood barked.

Nagel closed his mouth.

After a tense moment of silence, Hood spoke up.

"Why wasn't I told of this?" he whispered.

"You must understand, this operation was top-secret. We didn't want anyone to know about it; even the top brass of the UNSC couldn't have known. The risk of a leak was too high, and we didn't want to have any scares, like Insurrectionist attacks or Covenant Loyalist ambushes." The German explained hastily.

"About the CAS. Do they know about this?" Hood asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"As you know, The UEO is a joint Human-CAS group, so of course some of them know. A few are the Arbiter, the Council, and Rtas' Vadumee."

Hood sighed and slumped in his chair. He mumbled something about ONI spooks and spoke again.

"Are they safe, Nagel? Will they be okay out there?" he said.

Nagel nodded, confirming the question.

"Yes. The _Conquistador_ has MACs, Archer missiles, and plasma turrets built into it. They should be considerably out of danger."

"The problem is, Admiral, we don't know what's out there."

"_What's out there_ doesn't know _what we have_." Nagel said.

Hood looked up from his defeated posture and smiled. _Those hard, gray eyes look mean, but the man is a nice fellow_, he thought to himself. He sat up and grabbed the folder, looking through it once more.

"Will they have sufficient military personnel onboard?" he inquired, not looking up from the papers.

"The armed crew consists of over four hundred Marines, a few squads of ODST's, Grunts, Jackals, Skirmishers, some Brutes, Elites, including Spec Ops, and Hunters." He answered switching to the crude names for the CAS soldiers.

"That all?"

Nagel smiled.

"And some Spartans."

**Onboard the **_**Conquistador**_

**Three Earth days from launch**

**Standard Military Calendar**

**June 14, 2575**

**2100 hours**

Lieutenant Vincent-123 polished his M45 Tactical Shotgun, blocking out the sounds of the noisy mess hall around him. He looked into his reflection on the shiny metal of the weapon. He saw a golden visor, its rippling sheen gleaming under the shine of the artificial light. He stood up and placed his shotgun on his back, sliding it through the magnetic clip built into his armor.

At 6'8, he was an imposing figure, even without his red, Mark VI armor. As a soldier, he was highly skilled in combat. He had fought Insurrectionists, other terrorists, and the remnants of the Covenant hegemony. He was a Spartan-IV, and he and his brothers and sisters were the latest and, as decided by the government, last addition to the Spartan program. He vaguely remembered his early age, since he was chosen by scientists as a suitable candidate for the super-soldier project. They sought to improve the flaws the former Spartans had, and be more like the Spartan-II's of old. More like the legendary John-117. He and the other kids were forced to undergo rigorous training, things no seven year old should go through. He remembered one day, during a particularly rough game of Capture the Flag, he had sprained his ankle sprinting through a creek bed. The medics retrieved him and treated his injury. He recalled one of the medics comforting him, not telling him to "shut up and quit your bawling" like the others. The man said to him,

"_When all this is done, you'll look back and say this was all for the best. You're doing this for the safety of mankind. So suck it up and press on."_

After the brutal genetic augmentations, he and one hundred and thirty two others became the first Spartan IVs. During the course of his life, he would remember the words of the medic, and he would apply it to his life every single day. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

His friend, Xavier-071 removed his helmet and smiled at him. Xavier was short for a Spartan, standing at 6'4 with his armor. But what he lacked in height he made up in skill. Xavier was heavily muscular, and by far the strongest Spartan IV alive. He could easily lift a Scorpion tank, and even throw one several yards. He also wore Mark VI armor, but his was olive-green. Xavier had handsome features: a strong jaw, fair hair, and clear, blue eyes. He was popular among the Spartans, since he had a friendly nature at heart. Xavier playfully socked Vince on the arm. Vince felt his shields flare a bit. That was how strong Xavier was.

"How come you never take your helmet off, Vince?" Xavier had a high voice, comically contrasting with his intimidating stature.

"I've told you before, Xavier, I'll tell you again. I don't feel comfortable without my helmet on." Vince said. He had a deep voice, although not too deep to be a baritone. Xavier shook his head.

"Look, Vince. You don't always have to be such a serious guy. We're not on the battlefield!" He raised his arms, gesturing to the crowded cafeteria. "We're in a high-tech ship millions of miles away from any danger!"

"From danger w_e_ know of." Vince added meaningfully.

Xavier rolled his eyes and left him. He plopped down on a seat next to a gaggle of ODSTs.

"So, guys. How's it going?" he asked playfully.

The elite soldiers glared at him with undisguised contempt and ignored him, returning to their food.

"He's different from the rest of us." A voice said from behind Vince. He turned and saw his other friend, Courtney-020, walk up next to him. She also had her green, Mark VI helmet off. As a girl, she was more pretty than beautiful, with attractive features adorning her heart-shaped face. She had green eyes and red hair, cut to a thin buzz. The only feature marring her face was a jagged scar running from her left eye to her chin, a result from a near-miss from a sniper during a mission on a partly terraformed Harvest. Vince nodded in greeting and agreement. He turned back to Xavier, who was now flirting with a good-looking ensign woman.

"He isn't serious. I'm afraid that might get him killed." He responded.

"He's right though," she said.

Vince turned back to her, raising an eyebrow behind his helmet.

"There's a time for everything, Vince. You don't have to be so grim all the time."

Vince shook his head.

"You don't understand, Courtney. I can't let my guard down. I don't want to fail this operation."

Courtney sighed and rubbed his shoulder pad. She then left to talk with Xavier. Vincent remembered something and called out to his teammate.

"Where's Harry? Have you seen him yet?" he asked. He was talking about their other group member, Harold-164. Altogether, the foursome made Valor Team. The name was a tribute to the Noble Team that helped at Reach, during its attack in 2552. Courtney shook her head.

"I haven't seen him, but I heard he was talking with the Captain." She turned and resumed her conversation with Xavier.

Vince sighed and walked into the hallway to his right, exiting the noisy mess hall. He wanted to talk with their team leader. Someone who could understand him.

Major Harold-164 walked into the Bridge, surveying his surroundings. Dozens of crew and personnel were milling about, doing several tasks and other stuff Harold didn't really care about. Some technicians were sitting in their seats, checking the status of the ship, if shields were operational, weapons alright, etc. A Huragok, a CAS Engineer, hovered above a control panel, tentacles whizzing around as it repaired the small metal rectangle. A couple of technicians were gawking at the sight. He saw the Captain hunched over a large holo-table, along with several of his trusted crew members. A small, silver figure stood on a little pad built into the side of the metal table. It turned and saw Harold approaching and whispered to the Captain. The white-uniformed man straightened and turned to face Harold. Captain Francisco Ayala was a tall man, standing at a little over 6'5. He had a lightly tanned face, pockmarked with little depressions and wrinkles. The Captain had coal-black eyes, which the female personnel on the ship somehow found attractive. He had jet-black hair, usually combed back, but now it was slightly mussed and haphazard, like he just woke up. Pertaining to his age, he was thirty five, having climbed the ranks of the UNSC at the age of twenty three. Harold once told him he had the potential to be something greater, but the lax Captain waved him away.

"Captain's fine for me. Not too much work, good pay," he remembered Francisco telling him. Harold smirked behind his helmet. His superiors would compare him to Captain Cutter, a famous military man who captained the _Spirit of Fire_, which was declared lost with all hands early in the war. Harold transported himself back into the present when Ayala offered his hand.

"Thank you for coming, Harold," he said as he gripped the blue-armored Spartan's hand, "We have a situation."

He said the last bit with a twitch in his left eye. He fidgeted nervously, adjusting his suit and looking about the spacious Bridge. Harold sensed the Captain didn't want the crew to know about this.

"What can I do to help?" Harold asked.

"Come. I'll show you."

The pair walked back to the holo-table. Ayala dismissed the other men and women around it, and they obediently left. All who were left were Harold, Ayala, and the silver figure. Said figure bowed in greeting.

"_Se__ñ__or_ Harold, it is good to see you once more." The figure said. The small man was dressed in the style of a 13th century Conquistador, complete with a brass helmet and musket. A brown mustache adorned the image's face. His name was Manuel, and he was the primary AI of the ship. He was a third generation AI, smarter than his past cousins. This was his first time operating on a ship, so he decided to be formal at all times. That's why Harold didn't even bother to saw he had just talked with him a few hours ago.

"Manuel." He responded in kind.

They looked back at the holo-table. A miniature image of the _Conquistador _floated a few centimeters above the surface, surrounded by little balls of light representing stars. What surprised Harold was the big spherical object a few feet away from their ship.

"Atmosphere comprised of mainly oxygen and nitrogen, landforms consisting of several deserts, lakes, mountains, plains, forests, etc. Oceans salt-based, biosphere similar to that of Earth." said the AI.

"Flora and fauna?" Harold asked, eyes riveted on the large planetoid.

"Flora substantial. I wasn't able to read any life signs that suggested any animal life." Manuel continued, "However, I did a quick scan of the planet and found several large structures situated deep in the center of a large tropical forest." Manuel glanced at Captain Ayala, and the Captain nodded.

"Architectural design and technological readouts suggests that it's Forerunner."

Harold snapped from his reverie and looked at Ayala.

"Is he speaking the truth?" he whispered.

"Yes. He is." The Captain himself seemed excited, eyes wide and gleaming. For a moment. He remembered his task, and his demeanor changed from giddy to serious.

"We'll be approaching the planet in about two hours. That should be a significant amount of time for you and your team to get ready."

"Sir?" Harold asked, then it dawned on him.

"You want us to explore those structures."

"Correct. I'll be sending a team of Spec Ops Elites with you. That should be enough for you to get in, look around, get back, and tell us what you saw. Manuel will be accompanying you, inside your armor of course."

Harold was quiet for a bit.

"Captain," he said after a while, "I don't feel the need to have an AI with me."

Ayala furrowed his brow in confusion.

"How so?"

"I think one of my own team would be more suitable with AI integration. His name is-"

"Major?" a voice said from behind them.

The three looked back to see a tall, red armored Spartan walking towards them.

"His name is Vincent." Harold said, smiling behind his helmet.

Vince approached his team leader, the Captain, and Manuel slowly. Harry walked over to him and clapped a hand down on his shoulder.

"Just in time, Vince. Looks like we got a mission on our hands."

Vince blinked in surprise.

"This early?"

"You didn't expect to be utilized so early in the game, huh?" Captain Ayala teased. The Spaniard gestured to Harry with his chin.

"He'll tell you what you need to know. For now, follow your leader." He went back to the large table, conversing with the AI in Spanish. Harry moved to exit the bridge.

"Let's go, Spartan. We got work to do."

The pair entered a large hallway, passing a wooden bulletin board as they walked. Two bickering Unggoy saw them and instantly shut their mouths. They stumbled to make room for the Spartans. Marines walking by them saluted, gazing at them in awe and admiration.

"We're approaching a habitable planet the AI found in its radar. We and a few Elites are going to drop in there, look at some structures, and get out." Harry told him.

"Are the structures Forerunner?" Vince asked.

Harry chuckled.

""You're a fast one. Yes they are Forerunner."

They reached a large door that slid open as they approached it. Rows upon rows of weapons lay ready for use on several racks. Harry nudged him.

"I'll go get the rest of the team. Go pick your weapons." With that, he left. The door closed behind Vince with a beep. He walked over to the nearest rack and took a small handle-like object. He pressed a button and it ignited. Two shining blades of energy burst from the pommel, curving and coming together in a deadly point. He admired the energy sword, whirling it about his body. It hummed steadily as he worked it.

"A most admirable weapon, no?" a deep voice said to his right.

Vince whirled around, sword gripped in a defensive stance. A black-armored Elite leaned on a pillar, mandibles clicking in amusement.

"I am not your enemy, Spartan. Not anymore, at least." The Sangheili said.

"You're Spec Ops." Vince said warily, dropping the blade a fraction.

"Correct. My six brothers and I are the resident Spec Ops warriors on this ship," he came off the pillar and inspected a needler on a rack. "Of course, we are not the only Sangheili."

"Since you are Spec Ops, you must know-" said Vince, speaking about the mission.

"I am aware. Your Captain informed me and my team earlier. I assume you are picking out your tools of battle?" he asked.

Vince nodded, turning off the sword and clipping it to his waist. He walked to the other side of the rack and grabbed some grenades: two Fragmentation and two plasma. The Elite spoke from the other side of the room.

"My brothers are waiting for me outside. Is your team waiting too?"

"Not exactly. My two teammates are coming soon to pick their weapons."

The Elite grunted in understanding.

"What do you think we'll find down there?" the Elite asked.

"You know, you're awfully chatty for a split-face." Vince called.

Too late did Vince realize his mistake. He had just enough time to raise his arms in surrender when the Elite rushed him in a dark flash. The Sangheili stood a head taller than Vince. His body frame was huge, easily larger than the Spartan's. He growled menacingly.

"I tried friendliness, human. If you want to insult my people, then by all means, let us fight." He said.

Vince dropped his arms.

"I'm sorry. It's a slang term I've been hearing a little too much. If you want to hit me, go ahead." he answered, voice low.

The Elite huffed loudly. He stepped away from Vince and waved a hand.

"You are forgiven, Spartan. Everyone has flaws."

"Would you have hit me?" Vince asked, curious.

"We are comrades-in-arms, human. I would not lay a hand on you unless the time calls for it." He turned to leave.

"Wait!"

The Sangheili paused mid-step.

"I never did get your name." Vince stated.

"My name is Zor' Mawasari. Yours?"

"Vincent-123. You can call me Vince."

"Vince." The alien rolled that over in his tongue. He nodded, and left the armory.

"Was that a Spec-Ops Elite?" a familiar voice said.

Xavier and Courtney strolled inside the armory, helmets on. They started to pick weapons from the racks, but the question still hung.

"Yeah. Almost got into a fight with him, but we reconciled." Vince explained.

"What'd you do? Did you step on his foot? Call him a squid?" Xavier asked lightly, holstering a silver Magnum.

"Accidentally called him a split-face." Vince answered, ashamed.

Both Courtney and Xavier inhaled sharply.

"Good thing you guys made up." Courtney said.

Xavier and Vince walked out of the room, ready to go. Xavier had a MA5C Assault Rifle clipped to his back, with a pistol at his side. Vince sighed.

"What's taking Courtney so long?"

"Hold on! I'm almost done….there!"

She skipped out of the room, holding a large, black weapon. Xavier whistled.

"Spartan Laser? Dang, Courtney."

She smiled. The Weapon/Anti-Vehicle Model 6 Galilean Nonlinear Rifle was the most powerful infantry weapon in the UNSC. Battery-operated, it emitted a powerful laser beam capable of destroying tanks, aircraft, and soldiers. That wasn't all. On her back was M41 Surface-to-Surface Rocket Launcher, a powerful weapon that created a _very _big boom. She exhaled.

"Now I'm ready." She said.

They walked over to the Hangar. A Sangheili walking past them gawked at Courtney for a moment, then went away, laughing to himself. Courtney's smile became even bigger. They reached the hangar, where Harry, Captain Ayala, and the black armored Spec Op Elites were waiting. They were tall and menacing, every inch the warrior the stories said they were.

The spacious hall wasn't filled with too many people. There was the occasional Huragok repairing something, or a lone Marine looking for somewhere to catch a smoke. Various ships were sitting on the ground, CAS and UNSC alike. The Captain smiled in greeting at the three Spartans.

"_Bueno_. We are all here. I have already informed the crew of the planet, so no one will be suspicious of your departure. You will all be flying in on a Phantom dropship, once we enter the planet's atmosphere. Luckily, we will be stationed near the structures, so you won't have to travel far. You all know what you have to do."

He reached into his pocket and took out a small, metal disc. He gave it to Vincent, who took it in confusion.

"What's this, Captain?"

"Inside that disc is the ship's AI, Manuel. He will be telling you important information on your mission. Put it behind your helmet, over there."

Francisco told Vince where to insert the disc, and instantly a whir of energy filled the Spartan's head.

"_Es muy c__ómodo!_ Well, hello, Spartan. I am Manuel, your partner on this little expedition." Vince heard in his head.

Harry could tell by his squad member's position that he was not comfortable with the new intrusion.

"You'll get used to it, soldier." He said, chuckling.

"Now that everyone's accounted for, lets head to your ride."

While they were walking, Vince looked at the Elite _group_. He counted six.

"You're wondering why there are only six, _sí_?"

Vince almost jumped. He growled.

"Would you stop talking in my head?"

Xavier looked back at Vince, raising an eyebrow. Then he remembered the AI. He turned back, smiling to himself.

"The reason why they are only six is because they left one behind at the ship. For security purposes, of course. I believe it was Zor' Mawasari's idea."

Vince looked at the giant Sangheili warrior. He stood tall and proud amongst his brothers, obviously the leader of the group. Vince stored that info in his head. Finally, the group reached the Phantom. The purple ship was surrounded by Kig-Yar, who were apparently eating their food away from the human-filled cafeteria. Captain Ayala made a harsh screeching sound, spinning his arms in wild movements. The Jackals screeched back and left their perches. Courtney looked at the captain.

"You speak Kig-Yar?" she said, surprised.

"Yes, I do. And numerous others." Ayala said, pride evident in his tone.

Harry ordered his team to get inside. The side doors opened slowly, letting the Spartans enter the interior of the ship. The Elites came in next, with one heading straight to the pilot seat. When they were all in, the dropship rumbled to life, unsteadily rocking back and forth in hover position. The pilot skillfully steadied the ship. The Captain waved in farewell as the Phantom flew forward. The hangar door opened slowly, revealing a clear blue sky, puffy clouds floating in the distance. The Phantom left the _Conquistador_ and entered the skies of the unknown planet.

They left the side panels open, so the occupants could get a breath of fresh air. Cool wind filled the ventilators of Vince's armor, and his body temperature went down considerably. The Elites were getting a kick out of the freedom, closing their eyes in appreciation. Xavier took off his helmet and breathed deeply. Vince looked down and saw a sea of treetops, a wide stretch of green as far as the eye could see. Gigantic mountains bordered each side of the forest, tall and unmoving, like rocky sentinels. In the distance, gray buildings peeked out from under the tall trees. He pointed at them.

"Over there. The structures."

The Phantom veered to that direction.

"Let us land over there." Zor said, indicating a small clearing. A thin creek ran through the center of the clearing, the ground beside it eroded and shallow. The Phantom hovered a few feet off the ground, letting the soldiers jump and land on the forest floor. Vince felt muddy soil give way beneath his feet. He stood straight. In front of them was a huge edifice, soaring towards the sky. Foreign symbols glowed on the surface of the structure, giving the whole place an eerie, supernatural aura. Harry crept over to Vince.

"Hear that?" he whispered.

Vince shook his head.

"I don't hear anything, Major."

"Exactly. I know there are no animals, but it's just downright creepy."

Harry was right. The sounds that usually accompanied a tropical forest were nowhere to be heard. Vince felt a twinge of unease, but he quickly crushed it. _There was work to be done_, he said to himself. The group cautiously headed to the buildings, weapons primed and ready. They came to a place where two of the buildings were separated, leaving an empty space between the two monolithic constructs. On each building were metal doors. They had come to a fork in the road. Harry opened up a public channel to the group.

"Looks like we're splitting up. Vince, Courtney, Xavier, you're with me. Elites, go through the right door."

"Affirmative." The Elite said into his mike.

The group split, the aliens going one end, the humans going to the other. Xavier approached the door gingerly, assault rifle up and ready. The lights on the door flashed once and opened. Xavier leaped inside and inspected the hall. He turned back to the Spartans.

"All clear."

The super soldiers moved in, surveying the room. It was huge, as big as the hangar of the _Conquistador_. Pillars stood at each end of the room, supporting the giant hall. They were engraved with strange images. Vince put a gloved hand on one and brushed it. One the pillar was a carving of what looked like a spaceship entering a portal. Next to it, the ship was coming out the other side of the portal and next to a planet.

"Strange," Manuel said. "Normally, Forerunner artifacts are not composed of carvings and engravings. Seems to primitive for a race of such technological advancement. Let me take a quick scan."

Vince felt a his armor hum quietly.

"Time frame seems appropriate. These pillars must have been made during the height of Forerunner power. It still is quite peculiar."

"That's an understatement." Vince murmured under his breath.

"I can hear you, _tonto_."

"Hey guys, take a look at this." Courtney called from the other side of the room.

Vince weaved through several pillars and found his friend looking at a holographic panel at the end of the hall. The rest of his team joined him as they inspected the panel. Suddenly, Manuel yelled inside Vince's head.

"Aye! Let me in there, Spartan. I believe I can decode those symbols."

Vince complied and reached over and removed the disc from behind his helmet. Manuel's figure appeared in his hand. He raised his musket and pointed to a thin compartment beside the panel.

"Put me in there, Lieutenant."

Vince inserted the disc. Manuel's voice echoed throughout the chamber as he spoke.

"Hmmm. It seems this is some sort of control room. This panel holds the activation procedures. Interesting. Open a link to Zor and his _compadres_."

Harry touched the side of his helmet and spoke to Zor.

"What've you guys found?"

Zor's deep voice was heard by all the Spartans.

"One thing is for certain. These structures are definitely Forerunner. We're in a spacious hall, with pillars on either side. I found a lil' panel with Forerunner glyphs. My team and I are around it now."

"Good! This is good! Now tell them to press the flashing red button on the count of three." Manuel ordered, voice high with excitement.

"Okay, I know I haven't seen much action, but I know pressing the red button is always the wrong idea." Xavier said.

"Just do it. It says that this place acts as a summoning device, used to call the 'Monitor of the Gate World'."

Xavier and Courtney spoke at the same time.

"Monitor?"

"Gate World?"

Harry hesitated.

"I don't know…Shouldn't we take this up with the Captain first?"

"No time. We'll do it later." Manuel snapped.

Harry sighed and relayed the instructions to Zor. The Elite had the same misgivings, but he obeyed.

"_Uno, dos, tres!_"

Vince pressed the flashing red button. There was a moment of silence. Suddenly, a voice spoke.

"Hello, I am 777 Loyal Hound, Monitor for Gate World Installation 01. Who has awakened me from my slumber?"


	2. The Battle of the Gate World

CHAPTER 2

The voice echoed for a while. The Spartans raised their weapons, searching for the source.

"Did you hear that?" Harry said to Zor.

"Who didn't?"

Out of nowhere, a hatch opened from a wall and a glowing, red orb floated out from the hole. It dropped down until it hovered right in front of Vince's face.

"Reclaimer! Are you the one who summoned me?" it said.

"I believe so."

"The Sangheili in the other Great Hall summoned me too, then?"

Vince nodded.

"Excellent! Then all is going according to plan!"

It zoomed away, leaving the Spartans and Manuel in confusion.

"What the hell?" Courtney exclaimed.

"Let's follow it. See where it leads." Harry ran back to the door, Xavier and Courtney close behind. Vince was about to follow when he remembered the AI. He removed the disc from the hole and put it back on his helmet.

"That was a close one." Manuel said shakily. "Could've left me there, idiot."

Vince just shook his head. He went through the door and saw the Monitor floating above the Elites and his team. Two gray machines were floating next to it. They had glowing red eyes, with sharp metal fins projecting from the back. They were bigger than Loyal Hound, and more threatening.

"Come. These Sentinels and I will escort you to the Main Control Room, where the portal activation will be initiated."

The group found themselves enveloped in a golden light, and the next thing they knew they were standing on a bright beach, waves crashing slowly on the shore.

"Sir, their signals just changed locations!"

"What? How's that possible?" Captain Ayala questioned, heading over to the confused technician.

"Their signals just-Wait! They appeared again!"

"Where?"

The whole Bridge crew looked over to the loud pair, puzzled as to what was going on.

"Where, ensign?" Ayala growled, running a hand over his raven-black hair.

"Right over here!"

The man pointed to a small dot in the center of an ocean.

"An island? That's impossible!"

"I'm just telling you what I see, skipper."

Ayala groaned in frustration and headed out the command deck. He spotted a red-armored Elite conversing with another one. He pointed at them.

"Both of you! Organize a team and get a dropship over to an island east of our position. We'll be in contact, so if you go the wrong way, we can correct you. Go!"

Obediently, the Elites bowed and went away without a question. Ayala sighed. _Why'd you agree to do this little voyage, Francisco? You could've been chilling in Barcelona with your family, but NOOO. You just HAD to do this_.

He went back to the bridge.

The Spartans and Elites obediently followed the Monitor and the Sentinels. Vince discovered there were more of the little guys, floating around in different direction around the island. They came to a large, silver entryway, not unlike all the other ones they had come across. The cheerful, red orb happily told them to wait while he opened the door. He let out a red beam, hitting the center of the doorway. Vince turned away and whispered to Zor.

"Where do you think he's leading us?"

"I do not know. As of now, I am more worried about my brothers. They seem agitated around these machines."

Sure enough, the other Spec Op Elites were a bit tense, suspiciously eying the Sentinels above them.

"Why? They might look a bit scary, but I mean come on. You could crush 'em with one punch."

Zor gave Vince a wan smile.

"Do not let appearances deceive you. Almost all of us are veterans of the war with the Covenant, and have seen these things in battle before."

"Where?" Vince asked, curious.

"On a Halo ring."

Vince froze. _A Halo_, he thought wonderingly. He had heard of the mythical ring worlds, stories told by battle-scarred men around the dinner table. Tales of parasitic life forms, massive arks, and giant Slipspace portals revolved around Vince's brain as the Monitor finished working. The door slid open smoothly, letting the warriors in one by one. A gargantuan obelisk jutted out of the center of the open cavern. Large conduits of machinery surrounded the pillar, all of them eventually leading to the object. It rose until it reached an open hole in the ceiling, where a patch of blue sky could be seen. Vince almost gasped at the sight. He looked at his friends. They had the same reaction. One of the Elites walked forward.

"Marvelous! What is this place?" he exclaimed.

"This is the Main Control Room, where the activation for the portal will commence."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on there for a moment," Harry yelled, assault rifle held firmly at his side. "Just what the Sam hell is going on here!"

"I've wanted to ask the same thing." Xavier stated, coming to stand by Harry.

"What do you mean?" Hound asked innocently.

"He means," Manuel shouted from inside Vince's armor, "We don't understand a single word you're talking about, _amigo_."

"Ah, a construct. Primitive, but effective, to say the least."

"You didn't-Wait. Primitive? I'll have you know-"

"Just answer the question, Monitor." Vince said above Manuel's protests.

"Are you saying you do not know about the activation procedures?"

"We don't know anything!" Courtney exclaimed.

It took quite a moment for the highly advanced semi-sentient construct to absorb that. His outburst scared Vince so much he almost pulled the trigger of his shotgun.

"WHAAAAAT! YOU DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THE GRAND INITIATIVE? ALL THIS TIME YOU WERE LYING TO ME!"

"No! No, no, no, no, no. We weren't lying! We just had no clue as to what was going on." Xavier explained.

"THEN WHY EVER DID YOU COME HERE?" The distressed Monitor cried.

"We have a perfect explanation for all of this-" Harry began. He was interrupted when his comlink crackled unexpectedly.

"Valor Team, this is Delta 1! Multiple bogies attacking our…can't hold…I'm hit…the Elite…we're going down!"

"Delta 1, do you copy? Delta 1!" Harry said urgently.

Static.

"Captain! We lost contact with Delta!"

Ayala slammed his fist down on the holo-table, spilling his coffee mug on the ground. He cursed.

"Get the engines going! Ready all turrets! We're going to that island!"

The Spartans and Elites aimed their guns at the Monitor.

"What have you done with our allies?" Zor hissed.

"Protocol states that none but the Reclaimers can enter this hallowed ground. I am deeply sorry, but your friends must suffer the consequences for intruding upon the Gate World."

"How come they can't come?" said Vince.

"They did not summon me, so they cannot enter. That is protocol. If you do not follow this, then I am afraid you must be terminated."

The Sentinels glowed ominously as they advanced upon the group.

"Open fire!" Harry ordered.

Guns blazed and plasma streaked as the warriors shot the machines down. The Sentinel's golden shields held for a bit, but ultimately exploded under the barrage. The Monitor hovered away, screaming out orders. More Sentinels poured into the room. Vince jumped into the air until he was right in front of one. He fired his shotgun. The Sentinel crumpled and fell to the ground in a fiery heap. Zor and his Spec Ops formed a tight circle, firing their plasma rifles at the enemies. Harry and Xavier had taken cover behind a pillar, each taking potshots at the hovering fiends. There was a burst of light. A red beam impaled three Sentinels at the same time, making them explode simultaneously. Courtney leaped into the fray, Spartan Laser smoking from the tip.

"Gotta love this thing," she said.

Vince grinned.

Soon, all the enemies were lying on the floor. Xavier kicked one, making little sparks fly from all the open wires.

"Damn rustbuckets."

Vince separated himself from the group. He noticed a small square on the side of the obelisk. It was emitting a faint, yellow glow. It attracted him, and before he knew it, his hand touched the center of the square.

"Come on, people! Let's head outside!"

Vince snapped out of his trance. They raced through the open doorway, out into the open. No one seemed to notice the quiet beeping next to the obelisk. A vaguely female voice spoke from the square.

_Countdown initiated._

To the surprise of everyone, the_ Conquistador _was in stationary mode just above the island, casting a humongous shade over the beach. Thousands of Sentinels were swarming around it, peppering the black hull of the ship with laser fire. Teams of Longswords and Seraph fighters were engaging them in dogfights. Vince could see that they were losing. The Sentinels were too fast and strong, their little bodies making small and hard-to-hit targets. They took cover behind some boulders as a Seraph came burning down on their position. It hit the ground with a crash, spraying sand in all directions. A group of Sentinels quickly dispatched of the remains, and Vince and the others could hear the screams of the dying Elite inside. Zor growled and made a move to attack the machines. Harry held him back firmly.

"We can't. Not out here. We'd get picked apart faster than you could say 'instant kill'." Harry said, consoling the angry Sangheili.

"Mark my words, the Monitor will pay for this grand offense." Zor vowed quietly, but with meaning.

Right now, all they could do was watch as they saw their temporary home lose a desperate struggle to survive.

The ship rumbled and shook once more as the collective fire of the Sentinels rained down upon them. Captain Ayala steadied himself, gripping a counter tightly. The entire Bridge was in chaos. His technicians were yelling commands out, trying to keep the _Conquistador_ in one piece. Papers and other junk were strewn across the floor. A man in a blue uniform lay on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on his head. _He must've hit his head when the ship quaked_, Francisco surmised. A woman called out to him urgently.

"Captain, shields are down to fifty percent! We can't hold this position!"

"We can't abandon those soldiers!" he called back.

"Sir, the machines have breached the hangar bay! Our men are defending the area, but it's not enough! The infirmary is flooded with the injured!" cried out a man in Army fatigues. He was gripping a loaded grenade launcher, and judging by the state of dishevelment he was in, he had come from the hangar. Ayala limped over to the man, feeling an old war wound erupt in his leg. He grasped the man's shoulder.

"What's your name, soldier?" said Ayala.

"Sergeant Holloway, sir!"

"Sergeant, I want you to take a Pelican and rescue those soldiers on the island. Take as many help as you can." He ordered.

Holloway hesitated for a moment, but erased his doubts. He saluted and left to do his Captain's bidding. Ayala took a deep breath and returned to the Bridge. He looked out the observation deck and saw his fighters fight a losing battle with the machines._ Que Dios nos ayude_, he thought.

"Mrs. Kierson! Get those shields back online."

"Yes, sir."

"Wu! I want all available turrets to take out every single floating tin can out there, _comprende_?

"Aye-aye, skipper."

"Fulton, send your troopers to the hangar! Show those machines how the ODSTs like their ship being attacked."

"With pleasure."

The crew felt a surge of hope. Their Captain was back in action.

Vince watched a whole cluster of Sentinels get obliterated by a plasma turret. He smiled.

"Looks like they're getting it back together." He said.

"The question is, how long?" Courtney added grimly.

Suddenly, someone patched through to them.

"Valor Team, this is Sergeant Holloway! We are en route to the island. Where is your location? Over."

Sure enough, they spied a Pelican flying out of the ship and coming towards them.

"Sergeant, this is Major Harold-164. We are under a large arch of rock, just east of your position. If you can see a big metal doorway, then we'll be next to that." He relayed.

"Copy that. Over."

The Pelican swerved and bore down on them. Vince could see a tough-looking man with a grenade launcher on the end of the Pelican. Three Brutes were behind him, fangs bristling from battle-lust.

"Never thought I'd see the day when I rescued a Spartan," The man yelled over the roar of the engine. "In the company of Brutes, for that matter."

"Spartans, Sergeant. We thank you all for the assistance, Jiralhanae included."

The purple-skinned primates merely shrugged.

They clambered up the plane one by one. Vince manned the turret, watching out for enemies.

"Okay guys, hold on! We're going in hot!" The pilot warned from the cockpit.

They lifted off. Vince spied a trio of Sentinels heading towards them. He pulled the trigger of the turret, unleashing a torrent of bullets on the unfortunate machines. The lead Sentinel burst into flames, falling down on to the sea below. The other two met the same fate.

"Nice shootin', Tex." Xavier remarked.

The Pelican wobbled.

"Darn it! I got Sentinels, on my tail!"

Vince fired at the approaching machines, but there were too many. He caught a glancing blow off his shoulder. His shields flared, dropping a great deal.

"Someone take over!" he called.

Zor stood and manned the turret.

"Rest, Spartan."

The Elite shot down the Sentinels mercilessly. The Brutes joined in, Spiker fire taking down more and more of the robots. One of the Sentinels avoided the plasma and took a shot at the Pelican. A Brute screamed in pain. He fell off the ship, a smoking crater burned into his chest. His pack brothers roared in fury, and they destroyed the Sentinel who killed their friend. Soon, they were in the hangar bay. The shattered remains of Sentinels littered the floor, but there were still many more of them attacking the defenders. A Grunt was manning a stationary turret, yelling obscenities as he fired. A group of ODSTs had taken cover behind a flipped Warthog, taking turns shooting the machines. Some of the other aircraft were in fiery ruins, destroyed by the invaders. He saw a Banshee sweep low and shoot down a Sentinel. The Pelican landed, and the occupants leaped out. The pilot was about to leave when several red missiles streaked towards the cockpit. They hit, instantly killing the unfortunate man in a huge explosion. Vince jumped out of the way of the skidding Pelican. Three giant machines came into view. They looked like Sentinels, but obviously packed a bigger punch.

"Enforcers," Zor growled. "They are vulnerable from the rear, so try to circle them." He advised Vince.

The duo raced towards the machines. They were wreaking havoc on the defenders. A whole phalanx of Jackals were decimated by the bombs. A Grunt riding a Ghost tried to flee the onslaught, but the Enforcers caught sight of him. One shot a golden streak of laser fire, and the Ghost flipped into the air, carrying its dead driver along with it. Vince jumped on top of a storage crate and fired his shotgun at the rear of an Enforcer. It reeled from the shot, shaking dangerously in mid-air. It regained its balance and turned toward the Spartan.

"Get out of the way, Vince!" Manuel warned.

He dived down the crate, avoiding the red missiles that raced forward. He was out in time; the crate burst apart from the bombs. The Enforcer turned back to Vince, but suddenly, it died down and fell to the floor in pieces. Zor came out of the wreckage, energy sword in hand. He flipped it the air and caught it.

"That is how it is done, Spartan."

Vince shrugged and focused his attention on the other two Enforcers. They were floating towards them. They readied themselves.

All of a sudden, two smoke trails streaked towards the machines from behind. The rockets hit, fracturing the Enforcers like wood. They joined their partner on the ground, steam rising from their remains. Courtney ran to them, happily toting her Rocker Launcher.

"Captain wants us in the Bridge." She informed them.

"What about the hangar?" Vince asked. The number of Sentinels were reduced, but there were still many of them harassing the crew.

"Looks like they've got it under control. Come on, can't keep the skipper waiting.

Zor, Vince and Courtney sprinted down the halls, weaving through dozens of haggard looking Marines and CAS soldiers. They made it to the Bridge, where Harry was conversing with a distressed Captain Ayala. The Spaniard noticed Vince from the corner of his eye and waved him forward.

"Come here, Spartan."

"Captain." The Spec Ops Elite, Courtney, and Vince all saluted him.

Ayala wearily returned the gesture.

"What happened down there?" he inquired.

"When we entered the temples, we-" Vince started. Out of the blue, a loud whining sound came from the building on the island. A burst of blue light erupted out from the massive obelisk. It was so bright Vince had to avert his eyes. The Bridge was enveloped in the blue light. The Monitor's shrill voice could be heard from outside the ship.

"Yes! Yes! The Grand Initiative has begun! The two will finally be one, and my masters' plan will be fulfilled!"

From across the planet, islands similar to this one released the same blue pillar of light. All of them rose thousands of miles into the air, coming together above the word's atmosphere. A giant Slipspace portal expanded from the point.

It could be seen from the island, and everyone stopped what he or she were doing to gaze at the spectacle.

"By the gods," Zor whispered.

"Tell all fighters to retreat to the hangar!" Ayala ordered.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this." Sergeant Holloway groaned from behind Vince.

The _Conquistador _gave a low moan as it was pulled by the gravity of the portal. Vince lost his balance, falling down to the ground beneath him. The last thing he heard before the planet was cloaked in the iridescent aura was the voice of Loyal Hound.

"The Gate World has opened!"

**Wild Space**

**Providence-class carrier/destroyer **_**Iron Fist**_

**En route to Teth**

**21 BBY**

Commander Bor Sethen strode imperiously through the command deck, inspecting his crew. He was a Neimoidan, green-skinned and tall. He gathered his bright robes about his fat stomach. He felt a tug on the hem of his robe, and he turned around to see a droid stepping on it. He haughtily flicked the head of a B1 battle droid.

"You stepped on my robe." The overweight Neimodian stated.

"My apologies, Commander." The droid droned mechanically.

"You better be. Take this machine away from my sight." He ordered.

Two B2 super battle droids clamped the skinny arms of the B1 and dragged it away.

"Make it do something menial, like clean the garbage hatch walls."

He turned away and sat down on his command chair. His droids were working beneath him, tirelessly keeping the ship in top shape. Bor sighed. He wondered why he even agreed to visit Teth. _Something about inspection_, he recalled. He had parted from his main fleet several hours ago, and now, he started to regret that action. The ship moved onwards, dragging on the continual boredom of the spoiled Neimodian. Suddenly, the monotone voice of a technician droid interrupted his daydreaming.

"Massive energy spike near our position, sir. Should we investigate?"

Bor sat up. _Finally something interesting_.

"Yes, we shall. It might be Republic scum."

The ship propelled forward. Suddenly, the _Iron _Fist rocked. The lights flickered on and off, sending the Bridge into confusion.

"Sir! Energy source right next to us! What do we do?" the droid asked.

The Neimodian peeked out from behind his seat.

"Back up! All forward engines activate! I don't want this ship to explode!"

The droids complied, bringing the ship back. A massive blue circle easily as big as a moon appeared next to them. The ship quaked, shaking from all the energy buildups. Bor's eyes widened. Everything was happening so fast! One second everything was normal, the next a giant portal appears next to his ship! He wrung his hands together in anticipation. A black shape exited the circle, and then, as quickly as it came, the portal vanished. There were a few seconds of silence. Bor squinted, looking at the huge, dark thing floating in space.

"It looks like a ship, sir." said a droid.

True enough, the thing did look like a ship. It dwarfed the _Iron Fist_, which was 1,088 meters. It had a unique hull design, roughly rectangular in shape but more thick around the front half. He gulped. If they were to battle that thing, their chances of victory would be slim.

"Do you want us to hail them?"

"No! Let's see what it does first…"

Vince awoke with a massive headache. He opened his eyes. Everything was dark, the ceiling lights broken or off. He groggily shook his head and got up, holding on to the edge of a counter. All around him the rest of the crew were doing the same thing, wobbling unsteadily on their legs. Vince turned a dial on his helmet. His vision cleared, outlining objects and people with a green outline. _Gotta love night-vision_, he thought. The Spartan spotted a white figure behind a toppled chair, and he moved to the spot. He gripped it by the shoulders. It groaned.

"Come on, Captain. Everyone's waking up." Vince encouraged.

"Ohhhhhh…" Captain Ayala moaned, cradling his head with his sturdy hands.

Vince took the chair and put it upright, setting the hurt Captain on the top. Ayala sighed heavily.

"Manuel! Status report!" he yelled out, voice hoarse.

"Sir, all shields are down to ten percent. The hull is heavily damaged, but will hold. Otherwise, everything else is fine, Captain. I'll get the emergency lights on." The AI reported from the speakers, voice slightly scratchy from the rough entry. The emergency lights burst from the ceiling, bathing the crew in a red glow. Ayala nodded in approval.

"Good. Now," he got up from the chair, heading to the navigation panel, with the tall Spartan following. He leaned over the man working on it, staring at the coordinates. "Where in God's name are we?"

"We aren't in any recorded space areas. The stars look completely different from what I've seen, and we aren't picking up any UNSC frequencies." The navigator said, a bit puzzled.

"Sir! We got something!" a woman shouted from the observation window. Francisco jogged over.

"What is it?"

The wide-eyed woman pointed out at space. Ayala squinted, searching. When his eyes met the object, he gasped. It was a strange looking ship, something entirely different from what the veteran Captain had seen. It was long and pointed, with a grey hull covering most of the outer walls. Blue markings striped across the far end of the craft. What looked like a command deck jutted out from the stern, like a spike. It looked threatening to the Captain, although he couldn't figure out why. The _Conquistador _was larger, easily outsizing it by length and width. He ran the situation over in his head.

"Manuel, contact the ship." He ordered.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, sir. We don't know where we are, and that craft doesn't look like anything I've ever seen, Covenant and UNSC. Even Forerunner." The AI argued warily.

"Just do it!" the Captain said, eyes fixated on the ship. It floated in space, seeming unsuspecting and harmless. Francisco knew how problems like these could change rapidly from safe to highly dangerous.

"What do you think they'll do?"

Harold, Xavier, and Courtney came walking up beside them. Even in their gargantuan Spartan armor, they seemed a bit nervous. Sergeant Holloway stood next to them, eyes glued to the ship.

"I don't know, Major. But whatever they do, it better be good." He answered.

"Sir, receiving a transmission!"

"Show them onscreen!" Bor commanded the droid on the control desk. It turned pressed a button. The screen in front of them turned on, revealing a most strange sight to the Separatists. A tall man in a snow-white uniform stood in a dimly lit room. Next to him were four strange beings, giant figures in matching armor. They were tall and bulky, most of them dwarfing everyone else in the room. Golden visors on their helmets hid their faces from view. Mostly everyone else was human, the Neimodian commander concluded. A sac of bright, purple and blue colors was floating next to the humans. A tentacle poked out from the mound, and black eyes blinked in their sockets. Bor swallowed down his revulsion. Beside it were three hairy, purple primate creatures in black armor, fangs visible from outside their muzzles. They stood upright, about as large as the armored figures. Seven tall aliens in black armor stood behind them, arms crossed. They had mandibles on their faces, sharp teeth poking out from under them. They had dark eyes, as if they harbored no souls inside their bodies.

Just by looking at the strange assortment of creatures, Bor felt threatened. What bothered him the most was that beside the humans, he had never seen anything like the other aliens in the galaxy. Bor had always considered himself a traveling Neimodian, since he had been too many planets and civilizations in the past. However, he never remembered coming across such beings before. He cleared his throat.

"On behalf of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, we politely ask you to identify yourselves."

Vince stared at the grotesque, toad-like being that had spoken to them. It was dressed in elaborate robes, and Vince didn't have to be from this galaxy to know he was someone of important stature. It was surrounded by skinny, yellow robots working on desks in front of them. The inside was a steel gray, completely colorless and dull. He opened a private channel to Xavier.

"What do you think of this guy?" he asked.

"I think that little wart-face seems threatened by us." His friend stated.

"How so?"

"See his body position? He keeps glancing back at us and Zor's buddies. He twitches, looks down whenever he looks into our visors, and plays with his fancy dress. It doesn't take a genius to know he's nervous."

"Good point. Looks like the skipper's going to reply." Vince cut the connection and took a quick look at Ayala. The Spaniard combed back his hair and smoothed down his shirt. He locked eyes with the alien.

"Greetings, I am Captain Francisco Ayala of the UNSC _Conquistador_. We have no knowledge of this area of space, so I kindly ask of you to inform us of this 'Confederacy of Independent Systems'." he said, voice clear.

"You are saying that you do not know where you are?" the thing asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

"Yes, that is exactly what we are saying." Ayala replied.

They stared at each other for a moment. The alien finally looked away, cringing under the stronger man's gaze. He fiddled with the collar of his robe.

"Well, if this is the case, then I will inform you of-" he began.

A droid yelled from his rear.

"Commander! Multiple contacts coming in from hyperspace!"

Bor whirled around, eyes bulging from his sockets.

"What? Who are they?"

"Looks like they're Republic, sir! A whole squadron of them!"

Bor didn't take long to put the pieces together. He snarled and turned back to the man on the screen.

"Republic scum! You led us into a trap!"

The man furrowed his brow.

"Republic? I assure you-"

"No more talk! Navigator, set a course for Mustafar!"

"Roger roger."

"Before that," the Neimodian said, casting an ugly glare at the confused people on the screen. "Let us blast these cowards to oblivion."

"Prepare to fire!"

Vince watched as several projections on the sides and topside of the ship slowly turn towards the _Conquistador_. He realized they were turrets. Vince gave a sidelong look at the Captain. Ayala's face turned from confused to furious. They were going to be attacked. Before he could give out any orders, the turrets fired. Long, green bolts of energy raced towards the modified Halcyon-class cruiser. They hit the ship hard, making the occupants lose their balance in the following quake.

"What the hell? They use plasma?" yelled Courtney after the shaking stopped.

"Shields are down to five percent!" Manuel warned, "I didn't expect them to use plasma-based weaponry!"

Francisco bit his lip. _What else could go wrong?_ he thought. A short, Australian man operating the communications desk tugged at the Captain's shirt sleeve.

"Sir, new contacts approaching!"

Ayala couldn't take it anymore. He let out a string of curses, uncharacteristic for a man of his rank. Vince grimaced behind his visor. The Spartan looked out the window. The new ships were dagger-like, triangular in shape. A red stripe ran down the center of each the crafts, contrasting with the white armored hull. The bridge protruded from the stern, not unlike the ship that had attacked them. Twin turbo engines emerged from the back, emitting a blue glow. They were large, somewhat bigger than the _Conquistador_. Vince counted fourteen of them. They fired their own turrets, projecting red and blue ones instead of green. They barraged the hostile ship with no remorse. Vince could tell that the enemy ship wouldn't last any longer.

Bor wiped a hand over his brow, palm coming away with sweat. He gripped the navigator droid by the shoulders.

"Why haven't we arrived at Mustafar yet?" he yelled.

"Sir, the hyperdrive core is malfunctioning. I do not believe we-"

The Neimodian screamed in frustration. Another rumble brought Sethen to his knees. He twisted the sides of his robe, staring dejectedly at the polished, silver floor. His last thoughts as the cruiser exploded into fiery bits was the image of his personal luxury ship, the _Space Pleasure,_ drifting in the orbit of Cato Neimodia.

_Why did I ever agree to this_?

Then he knew nothing.

Admiral Wulff Yularen stroked his thick, black mustache thoughtfully. In front of him was the remains of a Providence-class cruiser and the dark, foreboding hulk of an unknown ship. Across the black prow read: UNSC _Conquistador_. In all his life, the veteran Admiral had never seen ships of this strange design, nor heard of a UNSC. He shook his head. Yularen replayed the event of the past day in his mind.

He had been tracking a Separatist fleet for days, suspecting that General Grevious himself led it. Nine hours ago, they entered Wild Space, further escalating Yularen's curiosity. _What would the General want in Wild Space except empty darkness? _ he remembered thinking. Earlier, he received word that a Providence-class cruiser had parted the main fleet, evidently heading towards Teth. He grew even more suspicious, and decided to follow the ship with a squadron of his own. Then this whole fiasco happened, and the Admiral was lost for words. Behind him, the clone-filled Bridge looked at him in expectation. He was silent. Just when the clone officers were about to start their work once again, he spoke up.

"CT-3827, hail that ship for me. It's time to find what exactly it's doing here in uncharted space."

"Yes, Admiral." The clone dutifully replied.

"One more thing."

"Sir?" 3827 looked up.

"Call the Jedi."


	3. DISCLAIMER

DISCLAIMER: **Halo belongs to bungie and Star Wars belongs to Lucas Arts. I forgot to put this disclaimer up, so I'm putting it up now just in case. I'll be sure to put in the disclaimer for all the other chapters.**


	4. A Warm Welcome

**Disclaimer: Own Halo or Star Wars? I wish. Anyways, this is the 3****rd**** chapter of HaloSWEndwar, my first fanfic on this site. I hope you guys like it!**

CHAPTER 4

**Coruscant**

**Standard Military Calendar**

**June 15****th****, 2575**

**0725 hours**

Vince gazed out the paned window in admiration and awe. Coruscant was spectacular. Large, shimmering spires dominated the city, rising up to the blue sky above. They had unique designs, some straight, others curved. The sunlight reflected off their pure surfaces, sparkling beautifully in the morning air. Thousands of other smaller less fancy buildings covered the ground below, but they didn't lessen the effect. In truth, they just gave the place a more city-like look. To Vince's amazement, hover cars and speeders zoomed across the air, creating its own "floating traffic". The Spartan could tell it was rush hour, since the airspeeders were flying fast and hurriedly.

Below, millions of citizens crowded the streets, each going his or her way. They wore clothes of numerous designs, telling Vince that many different cultures existed in harmony here. Aliens of all different sizes, shapes, and colors joined in the hustle and bustle of Coruscant's streets. Aliens and humans coexisted here without any major problems. Vince sighed. _If only our galaxy was as peaceful as this_, he thought.

Beside him, other men and women gathered around the window, gazing out at the marvelous spectacle around them. Some were taking pictures with their cameras, planning to save it and show it to their friends and family back home. _If we ever got home_. Vince saw Xavier coming up beside him in the reflection of the glass window. He looked back and nodded once. Xavier joined him.

"Would you look at that," the short Spartan said quietly. "Imagine a whole planet covered in this. Truly amazing."

"I agree."

The Spartans turned to see Zor' Mawasari walk up next to them. He was wearing a light brown robe with an embroidered collar and hem.

"What's up with that get-up?" Xavier asked, forgetting to be polite. Vince nudged him hard. Xavier stiffened and stifled a groan.

"This is my diplomatic attire. I wear this when I participate in a meeting, or formal negotiations." Zor explained.

"I never knew you were a diplomat, Zor." Vince said, raising an eyebrow behind his helmet.

"I took lessons at the university when I was young. I never liked it; I favored the combat classes more."

He stood beside Vince and looked at the city before him.

"Not even Sanghelios, in all its splendor, comes close to this. I did not believe constructing a city that would cover a whole planet was possible."

"Nor I. Until now." Vince remarked.

The intercom crackled, and Captain Ayala's voice spoke loudly throughout the ship.

"All diplomatic teams, report to the hangar area. I repeat, all diplomatic teams, report to the hangar area."

Vince tore his eyes away from the window and walked down the hall.

"Let's go."

The three entered the hangar, where already dozens of crew were getting organized. Vince could see a Hunter pair loading several large crates onto a platform. Groups of Engineers were repairing a broken Spirit drop ship; its front half was torn from the rest of the body. Two Pelicans and three lime-green Phantoms were stationed near the opening. Captain Ayala was there, hair combed back under a captain's hat, white uniform crisp and ironed. He had shaved for the event, all traces of stubble gone from the Spaniard's deeply tanned face. He smiled and gestured for the three to come. They obliged. Vince could see five Kig-Yar dressed in ornate, stately robes. They looked refined, different from the more barbaric, savage looking Jackals he had seen on the ship. Two Unngoy in yellow were already sitting inside one of the Phantoms, deep in conversation. Two Mgalekgolo diplomats were standing off to the side, purposely avoiding contact. Zor joined three other Sangheili dressed in the same attire. Two Brute packs were waiting inside the Phantoms, weapons hanging at their sides. They wore their armor, choosing to act as bodyguards instead of sending diplomats. They were the bodyguards for the CAS, and the Spartans would be bodyguards for the UNSC.

Ayala gripped Vince's black-gloved hand with a firm shake.

"Glad you're here, Spartan." He indicated a man and woman dressed in business suits standing next to him. "Vince, Xavier, this is Mr. Wilkinson and Ms. Ruby. They'll act as our representatives for the meeting with the Galactic Senate. If anything goes wrong, these two are your top priority. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they smartly replied.

"Good. As you know, Courtney and Harold will be waiting here on the _Conquistador_, so you two will be the only Spartans there. Do not speak unless spoken to, and try to answer any questions about your training as carefully as you can."

"Yes, sir!"

Ayala nodded, ending the discussion. Vince and Xavier gave a quick salute. Ayala returned it and left. Vince turned his attention on Mr. Wilkinson and Ms. Ruby. Mr. Wilkinson was an elderly man of at least fifty, sporting a thick, gray beard around his chin and mouth. He was short and stocky, a little under Xavier's height. He wore a black suit and a red tie. Ms. Ruby was much younger, probably in her late twenties. She had long, dark, glossy hair, tied up in a bun. She had a charcoal-colored business suit and skirt, complete with a holo-pad tucked under her slim arms. She had a petite figure, small, but not too small to make he seem unintimidating. She had deep, green eyes, not unlike Courtney. Xavier tipped his head at her.

"Why hello, ma'am. Corporal Xavier-071 at your service."

"You're awfully silly for a Spartan, soldier." She replied haughtily. She turned and walked away, Wilkinson following behind her.

Xavier whistled appreciatively. Vince smacked him on the side of his head.

"Grow up, Xavier."

They followed the pair until they reached one of the Pelicans. Captain Ayala was seated next to the diplomats, going over their plan. A marine was unloading a turret off the slide hatch, and it looked like he was having a hard time. Vince jogged over to the struggling soldier and disconnected the gun with one pull. The man exhaled and turned to Vince.

"Thanks, Spartan."

Vince recognized the man.

"You're Sergeant Holloway." He said.

Holloway nodded.

"I sure am. Didn't know if you would recognize me, but I guess I've been proved wrong."

"Well, I'm glad you're here. If anything goes wrong, you're a good man to have in a tough situation."

Holloway thanked him and jumped onto the plane. Vince and Xavier followed suit. Soon, the hangar bay doors were slowly opening. The drop ships took off and flew through the opening. Crisp, city air filled the Pelican smoothly. Sergeant Holloway breathed in gratefully and leaned back in his seat. He took a pair of sunglasses from a pouch and slipped it over his face. Before Vince knew it, he was fast asleep. Snores soon followed. Xavier elbowed Vince.

"Man, he can snore. Haven't heard anything that loud since I saw the elephant exhibit at the zoo."

Vince chuckled and turned his attention to the outside. They were approaching a large, silver, domed structure. _This must be the Senate building_, he thought. The group landed and disembarked on a thin landing pad protruding out from the dome. Several people came out to greet them. A tall, black man wearing a brown robe walked forward, flanked by two imposing guards dressed in blue plumed helmets and armor. The black man held out his hand.

"Greetings, I am Jedi Master Mace Windu. I shall escort you to the Grand Convocation Chamber, where your meeting will begin."

He led them through a great metal doorway and into the Senate Building. The floor was covered in a carpet colored in a rich purple-hue, the texture soft and smooth, even through Vince's hard, Mark-VI boots. Several of the blue-armored guards were staring at the entourage suspiciously, not knowing how to take in the unfamiliar sight. More than a few gripped their long pikes tightly and whispered to one another when they saw Vince and Xavier. The Spartans, used to this cold perception, ignored them. They followed Windu until they reached a door. Inside, loud voices could be heard conversing with each other, no doubt about the new arrivals. The voices echoed, indicating the Chamber was in a wide, hollow area. Vince processed that, in case anything went wrong, and the information would be necessary. The door opened with a hum and they entered the Grand Convocation Chamber.

Thousands of circular, silver pods floated in the air above them, beings of all species standing comfortably inside them. Many other pods rested below on the ground, and five rose to meet them. Vince allowed Captain Ayala, Wilkinson, and Ruby to step in before him. Then, Vince, Xavier, and Sergeant Holloway followed. The pod wobbled a bit under the combined weight of the two Spartans, but it held. The collection of senators turned their pods to meet them. A white-haired man dressed in red and black robes spoke to them, voice amplified by a mike.

"Greetings, Captain Francisco Ayala and company. Your arrival sparks much debate within the Galactic Senate. However, I presume you were treated with as much hospitality as we could give?" the man talked with a thin, reedy, but imperious voice. It was clear he was used to speaking to people below him, literally and in rank. Ayala cleared his throat.

"Yes, we were. We thank you for our fine treatment regarding our escort to Coruscant and our guidance to your Senate Building."

The pale man smiled.

"That is good to hear. I am Chancellor Palpatine, leader of the Galactic Republic. Around you are the finest delegates existing within Republic territory. Come, we have much to discuss."

The pods rushed towards the center of the chamber.

"Let us begin with your story first. The kind Admiral Yularen filled us in a few hours before your arrival, but I would like to hear it from you personally." the Chancellor said, hands clasped behind his back. Ayala nodded and signaled to Mr. Wilkinson. The bearded man wordlessly took out a small holo-pad from his pocket. He handed it to the captain, who placed it on the silver counter. A hologram burst from the small surface. Vince recognized it instantly. It was the symbol of the UEG.

"We are part of the United Earth Government, or UEG for short. The UEG is the prime political establishment that governs Earth and all her colonies. We have colony worlds all over the Orion Arm, a section of our home galaxy in which we live. 50 years ago, we made contact with a group of alien races called the Covenant over the colony world Harvest. We tried a diplomatic meeting, but they responded by annihilating Harvest and her defenses. Their technology was far superior to ours. From that day, we fought a losing battle against our merciless foes."

"We were misguided!" said a Sangheili diplomat, "The lies of our former Prophets blinded us until we were their willing puppets, eager to do their bidding."

The other CAS aliens cried out in agreement.

Ayala gave the Elite a stern look and continued with the retelling.

"For 28 years we fought, and for 28 years we were pushed back. Finally, on 2552, the Covenant discovered Reach, our main military stronghold. We held firm as long as we could, but in the end, Reach was lost. A lone Halcyon-class cruiser named the _Pillar of Autumn_ managed to escape the destruction. It held precious cargo, cargo that would later save the human race from extinction.

"And what was that cargo, Captain Ayala?" Palpatine asked curiously, completely absorbed.

"It was the Master Chief," Ayala answered, a hint of pride in his voice. "He was our hero, the man who defeated the Covenant and saved us all."

"How can one man achieve such a feat?" a woman dressed in elaborate clothing asked.

"He was a Spartan. Spartans were super-soldiers, men and women trained from a very young age to fight. They were bred for battle, completely disciplined and skilled. They received genetic augmentations that granted them unparalleled physical prowess. They could run at speeds up to 38 MPH, lift tanks, and defeat armies single-handedly. The Master Chief was the epitome of the Spartan II program. He was the best there was."

"The _Pillar of Autumn _made a random Slipspace jump-"

"Excuse me, good man." interjected a blue-skinned alien in dark formal attire. He had large tentacles sprouting from his head and ending atop his barrel-like chest. "What is 'slipspace'?"

"Slipspace is the term used for the extra dimensional portal we open in order to travel in speeds faster than light." Ayala explained.

The senators muttered to each other. The blue-skinned alien turned to Ayala.

"So then it is like Hyperspace, correct?"

Ayala recognized the term from one of his conversations with Yularen.

"Correct."

The alien nodded.

"Go on, Captain."

"Anyways, the Pillar of Autumn drew away Covenant forces to a seemingly empty spot of space. There, they found one of the most revolutionary discoveries known to existence."

"And what was that?" said the Chancellor.

"A Halo ring…"

After several long hours of background and meticulous negotiations, the meeting finally ended. Vince breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the cramped pod. Xavier nudged him gently.

"I swear, if I had stayed in that little floating pod for one more second it would have collapsed."

Vince chuckled.

As he was leading the entourage down the purple-carpeted hallway, he felt a presence watching him from the right. He averted his gaze to the side without moving his helmet. The pale faced Chancellor Palpatine was staring at him, normally warm black eyes hardened to chips of unmoving rock. Vince felt his stomach drop to his feet, and a chill spread down his back. The Chancellor smiled, and Vince shuddered. _It was like he knows I'm looking back_, he thought. The man turned with a swish of his black robes and walked down a side hall, followed by two guards. Vince tore his eyes from their retreating backs. _Why does that man give me the creeps_, he thought. Xavier nudged him once more.

"You okay, Vince?" his friend asked, worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Ayala drew up his pace until he walked side by side with the two Spartans.

"Well, I'm glad that went well. What did you think about the Chancellor, eh? Seems like a nice-"

Vince felt a sudden chill run down his neck.

"STOP!" he yelled.

He pushed the captain back just as the wall beside them exploded without warning. Vince saw his shields flare minutely as a chunk of wall hit him on the chest. A blue-armored guard went flying out of the hole in the wall, multiple plasma marks burned into his chest. Xavier dragged him out of the dust and debris. He put a finger to his neck, checking his pulse.

"He's gone." Xavier said grimly.

Vince drew his shotgun from his back and peered into the dust that poured from the hole. Out of nowhere, a red bolt of laser fire lanced out of the fissure and struck him square in the midsection. Vince grunted. His shields flared, a golden film of energy coalescing around him.

"Get back!" he told the Captain and the others.

A dark figure strode out of the hole in the wall. Its skin was the color of burnt brown, tarnished from years of combat. It had two bright circles of white for its eyes, slit at the middle. It carried a wicked looking black gun, nozzle aimed at the Spartan. Vince realized it was mechanical; he had seen robots like these on the bridge of the Separatist ship, only this one was darker and taller. The droid raised its gun for another shot, but a blast from the M45 knocked the weapon away. Vince aimed a punch to its head. The robot swerved with surprising swiftness and dodged the hit. It jumped into the air and brought down both its fists in a brutal hammer strike.

Vince was faster.

The Spartan avoided the hit and grabbed the thing by its skinny neck. The droid dangled like a marionette in his merciless grip. With one crunch, Vince shattered the droid's neck. The headless body fell to the ground, bodiless head lying beside it. Before Vince could catch his breath, two more of the droids leaped from the hole. Xavier came in a green blur, knocking one of the robots out of the air. They hit the ground hard. The machine fired a burst of plasma from its gun. Xavier's shields drained quickly. There was a click as the thing's ammo ran out. Xavier drew back a fist and gave a quick bark of laughter. He punched straight through the droid and the floor beneath it. The droid died quickly, a fist-sized crater in its chest. Vince felt several hard shots hit his back. He turned away from Xavier, and his defeated opponent, and saw the other droid blasting away at him. Vince raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger. The shell collided with the droid with a bang. A few holes punched into its armor and pushed it back. The droid looked down at its wound and back at Vince. It rushed at the Spartan in a dark blur. Vince had just enough time to raise his arms in an X before his body when the droid crashed into him. It started smashing its metal fists on Vince's neck, trying to take him down. Vince ran forward, carrying the unfortunate droid onto the wall behind it. Its head snapped back and hit the hard surface of the wall. Vince snarled.

"Nighty-night."

He punched straight through the droid, wires bursting out from the wound. The droid twitched spasmodically for a few moments, then became still. Vince took out his arm from the machine, shaking stray sparks if electricity from his armor.

"Big Red's back at it again, eh?" Xavier said from behind him.

"You bet." Vince answered with a smile.

A group of guards ran towards them.

"Honored guests! Are you hurt?" One man said urgently, spreading his hands all over Vince's armor, checking for wounds. Vince felt uncomfortable and waved him off.

"I'm fine. You should check on your senators, see if everything is okay. You wouldn't want to find your Chancellor lying in a puddle of his own blood, do you?"

The guard paled considerable and ordered his men to check on Palpatine. The man quickly nodded to the two Spartans and followed them. Holloway whistled.

"Damn. Spartans never cease to surprise me."

The guards returned, cloaks swishing across the floor. They checked on Ayala and the others, seeing if they were okay. Vince felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back. It was Anakin Skywalker, the brown-haired man from the _Resolute_, Yularen's ship. He was wearing the same dark outfit he wore on the _Resolute_.

"Man, I've got to tell you, that was AMAZING!" he said in awe.

Vince shrugged.

"It was nothing, sir."

"We were just doing our job." Xavier followed, helping a guard pick up the dead body of the other soldier.

"Do you have any idea what those droids were?" Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Enemies." Vince stated simply.

"Those were BX-series commando droids, the elite unit of the CIS. Even some of our ARC troopers fell at their hands."

Vince shrugged once more.

Two men in brown robes walked up to them. One was Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi that was on Yularen's flagship along with Anakin. The other was Mace Windu, the black man that greeted them on the landing zone. They seemed to be whispering amongst themselves, but Vince's enhanced hearing caught every word.

"They're growing bolder." Windu hissed warningly.

"Bold is too good of a word. More like _reckless_, or _desperate_. Sending a whole squad of commando droids to assassinate the Chancellor was beyond foolish. They're trying everything to eliminate Palpatine."

"I am beginning to think that might not be a bad thing."

Vince heard Obi-Wan sputter.

"E-Excuse me? Master Windu that is bordering on treason!"

"We'll talk about it later."

The pair greeted Vince and Xavier with warm smiles. Vince was amazed how the Jedi could switch demeanors so quickly.

"We are grateful for the termination of those droids, Spartans. If you hadn't stopped them, the lives of many senators may have been lost today." Windu said politely, giving a respectful bow.

"Just doing our job," Xavier sighed, a little annoyed by all the praise.

"Well, you did your job stupendously," Obi-Wan said. "Your actions saved lives, never forget that. We are glad that you are modest, though."

Vince nodded appreciatively.

"Master, may I have permission to give a tour around Coruscant for them?" Anakin asked Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan adjusted his robes uncomfortably.

"I am not your master now, Anakin. You may do what you please."

Anakin's face brightened and he bowed.

"Although with considerable caution. I don't want to hear about any racing speeders or bar fights from the local authorities again."

Anakin smiled awkwardly and nodded. He scratched the back of his head and said farewell to the two Jedi Masters.

"Come with me, guys. I'll show you around Coruscant."

Xavier followed the eager Jedi Knight down the hall. When he saw Vince was not following, he sighed.

"Come on, Big Red, let's go! You want to see this town or not?"

Reluctantly, Vince let Anakin guide him through the passageways and up to the other building. There, they climbed a steep ladder until they reached the roof.

The sky was blue and bright, breeze rushing calmly through the air. Vince felt himself ease as he stepped outside. _I love the fresh air_, he thought gratefully. Anakin led them to a large air vehicle. It looked like a barge, the cockpit attached to the front of a big passenger area with windows. Vince heard a clamor of steps on metal stairway behind him. Sergeant Holloway came panting up the stairs, followed by a pair of Marines in green Army fatigues.

"Heard there was a tour?" Holloway gasped.

Anakin smiled and waved them forward.

"Come on. There's more than enough room for everybody."

"Okay, good. EVERYONE! TOUR IS UP HERE!" he yelled down the stairs.

Five ODST's came running up, still in their black combat gear. Three Grunts waddled up after them, chattering excitedly in their native tongue. A red-plumed Jackal followed, one hand resting comfortably on a plasma pistol at his side holster. One massive Brute came loping out, puffing his chest out at Anakin. Last, a familiar Sangheili walked out with crossed arms.

"Zor!" Vince called out.

"Ah, Spartan," the Spec Ops Elite remarked, "I had a feeling you'd be up here. Along with your friend, also. By the way, congratulations on repelling the metal abominations. You did well."

"Thanks." Vince answered.

Anakin exhaled impatiently.

"Any day now!"

The motley group entered the bus, slowly filling in all the aisle seats. They had a clear view of the city below them as they lifted off.

The Jedi Knight's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Welcome to Coruscant!"

**AN: Please, please, please R&R! It would be much appreciated!**


	5. Sleepless

**EID: Sorry for the long wait. I'll probably be able to update sooner now, but I can't guarantee anything. This is a short one, but I enjoyed writing this.**

**/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ **

**In orbit above Forerunner planet**

**Reverence-class battlecruiser **_**Ardent Flame**_

**Fleet of Righteous Indignation**

**Tenth Age of Atonement **

The Arbiter leaned across the railway on the bridge, gazing intently at the mysterious Forerunner construct. To the normal eye, it would seem like any other planet in the galaxy. Thel Vadam knew better. The simple fact that it was Forerunner suggested that the planet was extraordinary. He grunted, mandibles clicking in frustration.

His contact with the Spec Ops on the human ship vanished hours ago, seemingly dissipating in space. He had taken it upon himself to find out the cause of the disappearance. After all, the lead Spec Ops warrior was his nephew. Vadam sighed.

"Little Zor, what happened to you?" he muttered under his breath.

"Arbiter!" a voice said to his right.

He turned, ceremonial cape swishing about his feet.

"Yes, Navigator?"

"Energy readouts suggest that the disappearance occurred approximately 700 miles above the planet."

"Tell me how that is possible, Gthen."

"Shipmaster, that is what the readouts say."

"Is there anything more?"

"Yes."

The Sangheili pointed at a small, yellow dot in the center of a sea.

"This was the last known spot where Mawasari's bio-indicators read clearly. Then, all was static."

"Dark news, indeed." The Arbiter murmured.

"Shipmaster Vadam! Contacts approaching!"

Near the far end of the planet, hundreds of blue portals ripped their way through the black expanse of space. Large, blocky ships of massive proportions appeared out of the openings. Thel's dark, beady eyes widened in surprise.

"UNSC Supercarriers…" he whispered. He remembered seeing one of them in action, and although it slightly stung his pride, he admitted he wouldn't be happy to fight one again. There were hundreds, all pointing towards the Arbiter's fleet.

"Arbiter, they are hailing us."

"Patch them through."

A human male with short, black hair and gray eyes stared back at him. He straightened the sleeves of his black uniform and started speaking.

"Greetings, Arbiter. I am Admiral Eckhardt Nagel, commander of the 117th Fleet. I presume you are investigating the disappearance of your nephew and the CAS personnel?" he asked in a deep, rich voice.

The Arbiter nodded.

"Yes. I arrived here shortly before you came with my personal fleet, the Fleet of Righteous Indignation. You are here for the human crew, yes?"

"Correct."

"May I come aboard your ship and speak with you?" Thel asked.

"You may."

Soon, he was setting foot on the polished, black floor of the Supercarrier hangar. The Arbiter spied two Longsword-interceptors landing beside his escort party. _They were obviously keeping an eye on me_, he thought dryly. Nagel stepped up and greeted the gray-armored Sangheili with a short smile, flanked by ten of the human Marines. He noticed that some were staring at him with open contempt, eyes glinting with malice behind the flashing green eyepieces. They gripped their weapons tightly, like a lifeline. He understood well. He knew what it felt like when he saw his comrades die by enemy hands. He could never imagine, though, what it would feel like if his race were almost exterminated. He turned his attention back to the short Admiral. He bowed deeply in respect.

"Admiral Nagel. I give thanks for your generous hospitality."

"Pay it no mind, Arbiter. You are welcome here."

He led him down a side hall, talking incessantly as he walked.

"I was very excited when the CAS accepted the proposal for the UEO. I believe that this alliance will make great strides toward the exploration of this vast galaxy."

"Yes, yes, yes, Admiral," Thel sighed in impatience, "I know. I am more concerned for the welfare of my kin and the other CAS crew on your ship, however."

"Ah, yes. I have something to show you."

They arrived at the Bridge. He led the Arbiter and his Sangheili guards to a computer screen being operated by a grizzly looking officer in an orange-white jumpsuit.

"_Spielen sie die aufnahme_, Christoph."

The bearded man nodded briskly and typed a command into the keyboard. Moments later, garbled voices spoke out of the speakers.

"_What in God's name are those things?"_

The familiar chattering sound of gunfire blasted through the speakers, followed by the whine and hum of plasma.

"_Sentinels, human. They are very dangerous; I once saw a pair vaporize an Unggoy soldier on the fifth Installation."_

"_Okay, I _so _didn't need to hear that."_

The man stopped the recording. Nagel turned to the Arbiter.

"So we know they encountered hostile Forerunner forces-"

"Wait. How did you obtain these recordings?" Vadam asked.

"We had a several cameras and recorders installed throughout the ship. They were already a long ways off by the time they vanished, but we managed to catch a few tidbits."

"Play the first video now." he ordered Christoph again.

The scene was in the hangar bay area. It was pure chaos. He could hear screams and weapon fire, the occasional explosion reverberating through the computer. The Arbiter saw a pair of Mgalekgo warriors obliterating a group of Sentinels, and in turn falling prey to three Enforcers. All that remained of their bodies were chunks of blue and orange. The unified crew had set up a barricade along the far side of the hangar, where the doors leading to the rest of the ship were. Marines were manning turrets, barrels blazing in an attempt to wipe out the invaders. An Unggoy operated a Shade, purple streaks of plasma taking down Sentinels with ease.

"We also know the majority of the fighting happened outside the ship and in the hangar. Pause right there."

The video stopped and zoomed in on a floating, red orb levitating just outside the camera view.

"And that a Monitor was on the planet."

The Arbiter seethed. The last Monitor he met was a rampant little lunatic of an AI, killing a prized comrade and almost killing him and the Demon. The thought of another one made him quiver in fury.

"Lastly, here is a video recording of a camera positioned on the hull of the ship."

It showed several fighters, human and CAS alike, engaging Sentinels in the sky. Many were blown to mechanical bits, pilots wailing to the sea below. Suddenly, a pillar of blue light erupted from a structure on a nearby island. It rose to the sky, colliding with other blue streaks and meeting at the top. It exploded in a shimmery haze, creating an all-too familiar sight.

"A Slipspace portal…" A Sangheili breathed behind him.

"Correct. A giant Slipspace portal. The rest is static; we lost contact."

The video closed.

"What is our next course of action, Admiral?" Thel inquired, eager for a fight.

"I think you know, Arbiter," he walked to the observation window, hands clasped behind his broad back. He gazed at the silent planet, cold eyes taking in every detail. He spoke without looking back at the Sangheili leader.

"We're going to go in there and find out what happened."

**Coruscant**

**Standard Military Calendar**

**June 15****th****, 2575**

**2217 hours**

Vince reclined on the silver bench, taking in the night air. The music pounded beneath his feet; he was on the roof of a nightclub they were visiting. He excused himself from the partying a while back, leaving Xavier, Holloway, and the rest to the frenzy. He had taken off his helmet for once, since no one was there to look. He breathed once more. He even considered taking off his armor, but banished that ridiculous notion. He could enjoy the peace, but he could not let his guard down. He heard the sound of footsteps going up the thin, metal walkway leading to the roof. He immediately put his helmet back on and faced the opening. Anakin Skywalker walked out, face flushed from the heat of the club. Vince raised an eyebrow.

"I thought Jedi didn't party." He commented.

"I didn't. I was just watching your friends, checking if they got in trouble."

Anakin plopped down next to him, staring at the starry, night sky. The sounds of rushing speeders could still be heard, repulsorlifts thrumming gently. The bright lights emanating from the city reminded him of the place he was born in. He could never remember the name, but the flashing lights and night breeze always stirred up some nostalgic feeling inside of him. _Somewhere in Nevada_, he thought. The voice of Anakin brought him out of the past and back into the present.

"So, what's your galaxy like?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Vince sighed, once more having to remember old memories.

"Not that different from yours, actually. Of course, the technology here vastly outranks humans. It might be on par with the CAS, but who knows?"

"Is it beautiful there?" Anakin asked softly.

Vince fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I didn't travel often. I went where my superiors sent me, and that was it. There are some nice-looking spots on Earth, humanity's home planet. I heard about Emerald Cove, a gorgeous colony world that the Covenant didn't glass. There are supposed to be really nice beaches. There used to be some places on Harvest, but we haven't recovered them yet."

Anakin nodded.

"I'd like to travel there someday."

"Alone?"

"Well, not exactly."

"What do you mean by that?"

It was Anakin's turn to fidget.

"It's complicated-"

They heard a sudden crash sound below them. Hoarse voices and the sound of brawling followed suit. They exchanged quick glances and rushed to the stairs. They ran down the walkway, hands clutching the weapons at their sides. Vince reached the door first and forced it open with a kick. They were met with a strange sight.

Sergeant Holloway was pummeling an orange, squid-faced alien in a tight black suit with his fists. The ODST's were on top of a chrome table, silver cups and bright liquid strewn about their feet. They were lashing out at what looked like blue primates, but more stupid looking than Brutes. Vince could see a Grunt lying face down in a puddle of blue blood. His comrades were huddles about him, shaking him urgently. The massive Brute was wielding his Spiker, waving it about his head. The scantily clad crowd were backing up and out the door in an orderly fashion; they were obviously used to this stuff happening. Before Vince could say anything, a gargantuan pig-faced alien rushed up to him and pushed him back. He stumbled back and grunted. The thing was stronger than he imagined. It roared and came for another go. There was a streak of blue, and suddenly the alien was missing both its arms. It stared stupidly at its bleeding stumps, then fell to the floor, dead. Vince whirled and saw Anakin wielding a strange energy-sword, although this one was straight and long, unlike the curved ones the Elites used. It projected from a thin, metal cylinder held by the Jedi's gloved hands. Anakin motioned to the exit with his head.

"Take your friends back to the roof. Get in the transport and wait for me there."

He had such a commanding tone for one so young, and Vince almost complied. He shook his head.

"I'm not one to leave a fight, Skywalker. Especially when my friends are involved. You take them and wait for me."

Anakin's brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded. Anakin dragged the apparently drunk Holloway from the unconscious squid-thing.

"Get off the Mon-Cal, soldier." he ordered.

He called for the rest of the group, still clutching the Sergeant by the collar. They followed him up the stairs hastily. The Brute hefted the dead Grunt by the shoulder and followed. Vince sighed.

"Xavier? Kig-Yar?" he called to the empty club. The lights were still flashing, lighting the disorganized area in a rainbow of brightness. The music blared, the singer speaking a foreign language that Vince couldn't distinguish. He called out once more.

"You looking for the green monster and his squawking friend?"

Vince looked to the source of the voice and saw the middle-aged bartender cleaning the counter with an oil rag.

"Yeah."

"They went through the side exit," he said, pointing to a small door on the far wall. "Best watch yourself. They were following the guys who killed your midget friend. Former Black Sun members. Dirty bunch."

"It's nothing I can't handle." The Spartan said, already moving towards the door.

The bartender scoffed, returning his attention to the counter.

"Good luck, then. You'll need it."

Vince kicked aside an overturned chair and pushed the door open. The smell of smoke and death filled his air filters, almost making him gag. Steam poured from the vents on the dirty alley floor, blocking most of his vision. He heard the sound of a pistol firing, followed by a shrill scream. He jogged towards the sound. He saw the blurred, indistinct shapes of figures in the mist and he unclipped his shotgun in preparation. He burst into a small clearing where the smoke wasn't present. Three huddled forms lay on the ground, blood seeping from innumerable bullet wounds and plasma scores. The Jackal was dual-wielding plasma pistols, firing charged shots of green plasma at rushing opponents. There were more enemies, Vince noticed. Xavier flattened a tall, scrawny man with piercings and a black overcoat with a hefty punch. He sailed backwards and hit a garbage disposal bin with a clang. He slumped and didn't stand. The Jackal caught the punch of one tentacle alien and executed an impressive flying mare, slamming the being down to the hard ground. Vince almost chuckled in disbelief. Most Kig-Yar he knew were scrawny wimps. This one was the complete opposite. Xavier fired three times into the mist, scaring off the rest of the enemies.

"That's right! Go home!" he yelled hoarsely, brandishing his Magnum wildly.

Vince dashed over to him and pulled the heavy Spartan back.

"Let's go, Xavier!" he ordered, "You too, Kig-Yar!"

The bird-like alien grunted and wiped some blood off its purple breastplate. It squawked once and opened the door for the two Spartan IVs. The sound of sirens reached their ears as they entered the club once more. The bartender was gone, oil rag still resting on the shiny counter top. They avoided the clutter of overturned furniture and reached the roof exit. They met Anakin halfway up the stairs.

"I was beginning to worry about you guys," he said, wiping his sweaty brow, "The bartender told me about the Black Sun members before he left on his speeder."

"We whooped them like they were nothing," Xavier drawled.

They went inside the tour bus, catching stares from the occupants.

"What happened?" A Grunt asked.

"We got the bad guys," Vince answered. The sound of alarms and sirens got ever closer, and Vince could almost see the blinking colors of the local authorities. "Let's go, Skywalker!" he said urgently. Vince saw Zor reclining in a plush seat in a corner. Obviously, the black armored Elite had chosen to skip the festivities.

"What will the captain say about this?" he asked slowly.

Vince didn't say anything.

The vehicle lifted off and entered the busy traffic of Coruscant's skylanes. Vince's stomach lurched as they nearly collided with a rushing speeder, but Anakin swerved dangerously to the right just in time. Vince looked behind them and saw large vehicles projecting searchlights on the roof of the nightclub.

"Coruscant Security Force," Anakin explained through the speakers. "They do their job well. I've been caught by them a few times."

"Well, let's hope that doesn't happen today." Vince replied.

"Let 'em come! I'm not scared of a few police droids and washed up cops!" Holloway slurred drunkenly, waving a weak fist at the far-off authorities. He dropped his arm and slumped in his chair, asleep. Vince sighed. _The man could get demoted for this_, he thought, _or maybe even worse_.

The familiar shape of the _Conquistador _loomed above them, high above the towering spires of Galactic City.

"You want me to drop you off in the hangar?" Anakin asked.

"Yeah!" Vince answered.

Anakin maneuvered the speeder around a gleaming skyscraper and entered the open hangar of the Halcyon-class cruiser. Already Vince could see the white-uniformed figure of Captain Ayala walking towards them. Anakin landed the ship slowly, and the group disembarked. Ayala stalked towards them, hands clenched at his sides.

"News travels fast, soldiers." He growled. "Follow me."

They obliged, Anakin following them at the rear. As they walked through the hallways, several of the crew gave them sympathetic glances. The last time the captain had exploded the victim was left in tears. He had been a thirty-five-year-old man. Vince could not help but gulp. They came into the Bridge. Harold and Courtney were waiting for them there, arms crossed and blank visors staring accusingly at them. Holloway had awakened some time before, and Vince heard him curse. Ayala guided them to a wide TV screen and clicked on a control pad. A red-skinned Twi'lek female in red robes was giving a news report.

_"About ten minutes ago, a commotion at the infamous nightclub _Sleepless _drew the attention of the local Coruscant Security Force. Five known club members were found killed. Four of them former Black Sun members. Security footage shows the perpetrators at large."_

A video popped up of the soldiers battering the aliens in the nightclub. Bright yellow circles formed around each of the CAS-Human crew's faces.

_"Officials state that the starters of the fight were guests of the Galactic Senate, visitors from a new-found government. Details were sketchy, but they claimed that they came in peace. Authorities found unknown blood samples of what might be one of the visitor's, but nothing is certain. I'm Danka Melinta."_

_ "Thank you, Danka. Recent gossip about actress Jocava Lin suggests heavy drug use-"_

Ayala turned the TV off. The Bridge was silent.

"It looks to me like you've got a lot of explaining to do." he said.

"And we will, Captain. First, I suggest we tend to the injuries of your crew," Mawasari interjected. "We also carry a dead Unggoy."

The command crew gasped. Ayala exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair. He nodded.

"Yes, yes. Bring them to the infirmary. We'll do the funeral arrangements later," he gave Vince a dark glare. "I'll speak to _you _later."

Vince felt a pang of guilt. Forcing down his feelings, he saluted and left the Bridge.

**Senate Building**

**Palpatine's Chamber**

Chancellor Palpatine watched the security footage once more. He closed the hologram and leaned back in his chair. He turned the seat until he was facing the paned window, looking out at the city before him. He sighed. The new arrivals would put a snag in his plans for a while. As of now, he had no idea of what their military capabilities were. In the Convocation Chamber, he detected no lies issuing from the man's mouth. Nor from the other alien diplomats. All he said regarding the military was that they had just come back from a brutal war. Did that mean weakness? Palpatine could not tell.

Should he eliminate this possible threat before it can manifest? On the other hand, should he count on them as allies for his new Empire? He sat there for hours, making plans in his head. Finally, he smiled.

He stood and smoothed down wrinkles on his robe. He would wait for them to come. Then, when all was as planned, he would strike. And his Empire would reign forever.


	6. The Second Battle of the Gate World

**AN: Kind of short, I know. Popped up sooner than I expected. Don't expect it to happen again. Anyways, this is the fifth chapter to the story HaloSWEndwar, excluding the little disclaimer thing. By the way, I own nothing except my own made-up characters. Enjoy.**

**Gate World**

**The Island**

**Standard Military Calendar**

**June 16****th****, 2575**

**1030 hours**

"Well, that didn't go as planned." Lieutenant Jacobie Wilhelm remarked dryly as he quickly brushed off Admiral Nagel's formal suit. The irked Admiral grunted and called for an assistant to get a fire extinguisher. A short man wearing a technician uniform scampered over and hosed off the German. The Admiral dismissed the assistant. They were in the hangar, having returned from a disastrous negotiation attempt with the Monitor, Loyal Hound. They had barely escaped, with Admiral Nagel's suit catching on fire from Sentinel beams. Luckily, they managed to get out alive. Nagel cursed. _That most _certainly_ didn't go as planned_, he thought. The young British lieutenant finished dusting him off. Nagel spied the Arbiter approaching from the corner of his eye.

"The proceedings went sour?" the tall Sangheili asked.

"Terrible. I believe the Monitor has gone rampant. He mistook us for Flood forms and ordered his machines to decimate us. We got out relatively unharmed, although it seems I must purchase a new suit." Nagel responded.

"Then we go with the second plan?" the Arbiter said, an excited tone to his voice.

"Yes," Nagel proceeded to walk to the Bridge. "We destroy the Monitor and take the Control Room for ourselves."

Sergeant Chips Dubbo felt his stomach flip in anticipation as his Pelican flew ever closer to their destination. He tilted his head to the side and surveyed his men. They were all greenhorns, fresh out of the Reserve. He watched as Private Dunn McKirk clutch the cross at his breast and muttered prayers. They were all gripping their weapons like a lifeline, staring blankly into space. There were three more Pelicans behind them, carrying the rest of his men. Dubbo smirked; he remembered when he was like that. Although it didn't take him long to overcome it. Escaping a Flood-infested installation, surviving the war with the Covenant, and fighting alongside the Master Chief had that effect. He breathed deeply as they approached the island.

Already the battle was raging. The broken carcasses of aircraft littered the beachhead and floated along the shallows, victims of the Forerunner defenses. The bodies of men and aliens alike covered the terrain. More ships were coming in though, dropping off troops and going off to fight the Sentinels and Enforcers. Chips spied a rocky outcropping where Sentinels were harassing groups of ODSTs. He pointed at the cliff.

"There's our LZ!" he yelled hoarsely above the din of battle and the roar of the Pelican's engines. "We're going to secure that area and fight our way to the Control Room, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" his squad replied dutifully, but with pale faces.

"Alright, men! Remember your training!" Dubbo yelled as the Pelican started to land on the cliff face.

"Mtumbo! Take the turret! All the rest of you, groundside!"

He leaped off the plane and set foot on the grassy cliff top, wind almost blowing the cap off his head. He waited for the rest of the Pelicans to drop off his men, and then turned his attention to the battle. He saw a sniper sprawled against the face of a large boulder, half his head missing from a laser blast. Chips saw an ODST with a Battle Rifle jogging up to him.

"19th Shock Troops Battalion," the man said with a heavy Hungarian accent. Chips couldn't see his face because of the helmet, but he figured it was cold and harsh like all the other ODSTs from the 19th.

"Where's the rest of your men, soldier? And what's your name?"

"Lance Corporal Kolos Damiani. This is all I have left. The rest are scattered around the island."

Chips opened his mouth for a reply but ducked as something exploded to his right. He looked back up and fought down a curse. Three Enforcers were hovering above the battlefield, red eyes staring threateningly at them.

"Spread out!" he ordered his men. "Hit their flanks! They're vulnerable from that area!"

Chips hugged his MA5 to his armored chest and dived behind a boulder. He sensed Damiani beside him.

"Tell your men to distract them as best they can," he told the weary corporal. "We'll circle them from the rear."

The ODST nodded and pressed a hand to his helmet, relaying the instructions. Dubbo heard the soldiers renew their efforts, firing away at the machines. The giant Enforcers swiveled and raced towards the men. Several explosions and screams told Chips that he didn't have much time. He signaled to Kolos and started running towards the Enforcers, the ODST Lance Corporal hot on his heels. Chips dug into his side pocket for a plasma grenade. He took it out and chucked it at the back of one Enforcer. It attached nicely, and then exploded in a shimmering blue haze. The machine wobbled and fell to the ground. Kolos emptied his clip into another Enforcer and rebounded a fragmentation grenade off a rock and into the back of it. It exploded and sent the Enforcer falling down the cliff side and into the roiling sea below. The last one turned to them menacingly. Just as it was about to fire, giant blobs of blue plasma splashed against it, bursting apart from the barrage. A Phantom dropship floated above them. Dubbo waved a hand in appreciation. It left, going off to another destination. He sighed. _Thank God that's over with_, he thought.

"Load up and get ready, mates." he addressed the men. "We're going on foot from here on out."

He heard his men moan. Kolos looked at him.

"Newbies?"

"How'd you know?" Chips answered, voice laced with sarcasm.

Kolos had lost fewer men than Chips expected. Out of the twelve that had landed via SOEIV pods, which Chips noticed were scattered around the cliff face, eight had made it out. His men, however, didn't fare so well. Out of the thirty-six that landed, twenty-five ended up surviving. Chips turned over a body and swallowed. It was Private Dunn McKirk, eyes staring vacantly at the gray sky. One of his legs was torn from its socket; apparently he had bled to death. He was twenty-one years old. Chips said silent prayers for the unfortunate young man. He straightened and signaled for his men to move.

They ran down the cliff silently, avoiding the remains of Sentinels as they went. They reached a passageway into the rocks, where the entrance to the Control Room could be seen not far off. Chips saw the remains of a Seraph fighter, but it looked too old to be part of this battle. He raised an eyebrow but moved on. They made their way silently up the green hill. Chips saw a splash of purple on the trunk of a skinny tree. He followed the trail until he saw the body of a dead Jackal. He grimaced and looked up. _CAS forces must have been here earlier_, he surmised, looking up ahead.

They moved stealthily up the incline, guns held at the ready. The sounds of plasma fire and battle raged on ahead them. The group reached the top of the hill.

Dozens of Sentinels were hovering in front of the Control Room entrance, forming a stiff blockade to any invaders. The bodies of other Sentinels lay at the base of the formation, but they paid no heed. Chips saw a few Jackals and Elites behind a copse and a few boulders. They looked quite haggard, having fought for what seemed like hours. The bodies of their fallen comrades were strewn across the grassy valley, most of them concentrated near the wall of Sentinels.

"They attempted a charge," Kolos said, amusement in his tone.

"Probably the Elite's idea. You know, 'glory and honor in death'?"

Kolos chuckled silently.

Chips thought about what to do next. Obviously, the CAS had tried and failed to break through the Sentinel wall. Even with the extra firepower, he knew it wouldn't take long for the blasted machines to call in some of their buddies for help. Then they would be screwed.

He clicked his tongue across his teeth. He considered calling in some armor, but the space was too confined. Plus, it would take ages for it to get here, considering the ferocity of the Sentinel's defense.

He thought about bringing in some aircraft, but they were too occupied. Before he could say anything, a familiar sound reached his ears. At first, he couldn't believe it. Kolos rose beside him.

"Warthogs?"

Sure enough, seven 'Hogs came roaring from a side passage Chips didn't notice, Gauss guns blazing at the Sentinels. The machines, obviously surprised, took some time to recuperate. By then, though, it was too late. The last Sentinel fell in fiery ruins, joining its brothers on the ground. Chips heard a familiar voice speak through his comms.

"This is Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker with the 7th Battalion! Do you read me?" a man in a green hat said with a Texan accent.

Chips grinned and waved at the man.

"Read you loud and clear, mate! Sergeant Chips Dubbo here!"

"Did you say Chips Dubbo?" Stacker said. "How've you been, you old rascal of an Aussie?"

"Been better. I've got twenty-five men and a few ODSTs with me."

"Come on down! We could use a little help."

The jogged down the hill, meeting up with the surviving CAS soldiers and the reinforcements. Chips laughed and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Glad you came, mate. We were in a pickle."

"Well, that's what I do."

Kolos cleared his throat.

Chips looked back and saw everyone looking at them. Since both were Sergeants, they were probably the NCOs here. There were two Elites, but they were Minors.

"Leung! Baker! Caldwell! Moreno! You're with me! The rest of you, stay with the hogs and keep a sharp eye." Stacker ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

"Sergio! Lee! Young! Johnson! You're coming with us." Dubbo relayed to him men.

Damiani spoke to his surviving men in Hungarian. Two men joined them, the others staying at the entrance. The whole CAS force decided to come along, which was only two Elites and three Jackals. Dubbo led the group through the dimly lit building, noting all the strange Forerunner glyphs running like water across the gray walls. They moved down a ramp and stopped at a door. A high, mechanical voice could be heard babbling on the other side.

"Protocol is protocol! We mustn't let the invaders come in! No, no, no! They're all Flood forms! Yes! That's it! They're Flood! And my creators said that the Flood cannot be allowed to enter the other system!"

Pete looked at Dubbo and made a confused face.

"Probably the Monitor," Chips whispered.

Stacker made a disgusted face. The two men's interaction with one Monitor wasn't so great. The Monitor continued to chatter incessantly as they formulated their plan.

"We get in there, blow things up, and then we're done. Got it?" Stacker said.

They all nodded.

"Great. GERONIMO!" Stacker cried and sprinted though the now open door. Chips and the others gave similar war cries and followed. They were in a large chamber, a massive obelisk situated in the center of the room, reaching up to the open sky above. The Monitor, a red, floating orb, gave a shrill scream.

"Invaders!" it yelled in surprise. "Sentinels! Dispatch of the meddlers and the Flood!"

Chips snarled as he watched Sentinels pour into the room from the hole in the ceiling. _The thing's barking mad_, he thought as he emptied his clip into a hovering machine.

It was pure chaos. Bullets, plasma, and lasers were soaring across the room, lighting it up like some bizarre disco. The Monitor continued to scream, floating up above them. Chips saw a Jackal sail twenty feet across the room, arms flailing madly. It hit a conduit and slumped to the ground. One of his Marines fell victim to three Sentinels, lasers cooking his flesh and armor like meat. Chips cursed and took down all three machines with short, controlled bursts from his assault rifle. He spied the Monitor hovering next to the obelisk. He snarled and ran over towards the AI. He felt his foot tap something hard. He looked down and saw the overturned body of Caldwell, steam rising from his many wounds. Strapped to his back was a Spartan Laser. Dubbo picked it up and hefted it onto his shoulder. He put the Monitor in his sight. He pulled the trigger, charging the powerful weapon. It burst, hurling a straight, red beam towards the small body of Loyal Hound. It screamed one last time, and exploded.

Chips panted for air and wiped his brow. It was finished.

He surveyed his men. Only Sergio and Johnson were left of the four men he called. Lee was a cooked mess and Young with a hole in his chest. Stacker had lost three: Leung the only surviving one. The CAS group was decimated; only an Elite and a Jackal made it out. Surprisingly, for the ODSTs, they were all alive. _Well, not so surprising, really_. Chips noticed another detail he missed a while back. Stacker's men were ODSTs too. He silently reprimanded himself for that. Pete moved to the center of the room, where the obelisk was.

"This is 7th Battalion Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker. We've secured the Control Room. Do you copy?"

The radio crackled and a deep voice with a German accent spoke from the speakers.

"Copy that. This is Admiral Nagel. I am heading to your position. Over."

The room was silent.

"The Admiral's coming?" Leung asked.

"Apparently so," a blue-armored Elite answered. "The Control Room is an important location, and its vitality requires the intervention of an Admiral."

"Gee, thanks." Leung spat.

"Stow that gab, soldier," Stacker reprimanded. "We're all allies here, remember?"

Leung grumbled but didn't talk back. The door opened and the short German Admiral walked in, escorted by five ODSTs. _More from the 105__th__, by the looks of it_, Chips noticed. They saluted. Nagel returned the gesture.

"Men. I am grateful for the taking of the Control Room. We lost good men today, but your actions prevented the deaths of many more. It seems Loyal Hound had assumed total control over the installation, even bending the Sentinels to his will. With his death, all of the Forerunner defenses shut down. The battle is won."

They nodded.

He ordered his men to tend to the wounded and take care of the dead. Admiral Nagel strolled over to the massive obelisk, running a hand across its smooth surface. He stopped at a bright, yellow panel.

"This must be the activation panel." He called behind him, "Sergeants Dubbo and Stacker."

"Sir?" they said simultaneously.

"Take your men and head back to your respective ships. Relay to the _Landschneckt _and Battle Group Sigma that Needle will remain groundside. Say Captain Renfield will assume control over the Battle Group. Also, tell the Arbiter to take a Task Force and converge over the planet. Relay the same instructions to my Battle Group. Order all other ships, including CAS, to land."

The two men processed this. Finally, they saluted. When it comes to ONI, you didn't ask questions. They took their men and headed out of the Control Room, leaving the Admiral and his men.

**Onboard the **_**Landschneckt**_

**1233 hours**

Captain Renfield digested what the two Sergeants just told him. To a young American captain, assuming control over a whole Battle Group would seem like a naval officer's wet dream. On the other hand, journeying into the unknown with no intel whatsoever sounded like a suicide run. He sighed, fingering his prized mug of coffee. The two Sergeants, a Texan and an Aussie, waited patiently for his response. The Bridge crew continued to work, knowing what his answer would be, but knowing to well not to say anything. Renfield stood up.

"Sounds like a party," he remarked. "You heard them! All engines activate! Head topside!"

Battle Group Sigma moved as one. Nine UNSC Supercarriers, three destroyers, two frigates, and one prowler all lurched forward, flying to the top of the planet. Sergeant Chips saw a CAS task force waiting for them out the observation deck. Suddenly, without warning, a column of azure brilliance rose out from the planet's surface, right in front of the nose of the _Landschneckt_. Chips stepped back, colliding with an equally surprised Stacker. Five other streaks of light burst from the planet, converging in one spot and spreading out in an all-too familiar sight.

"Sweet apple pie, is that a Slipspace portal?" Renfield cried, earning weird stares.

The Supercarrier creaked and groaned, being pulled towards the blue hole in space. Chips saw an indigo blast flash before his eyes, and then slipped into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.

Chips awoke, feeling the slight urge of nausea collect in his stomach. He gripped the edge of a counter and pulled himself up. The Bridge was black as night, dark, stirring mounds the only indication of the crew. He heard an American accented voice, presumably Renfield, call out.

"Siegfried! Get the emergency lights on!"

"Already on it, sir." A digitalized, German voice answered. Scarlet light burst from the ceiling, bathing the room in a red glow. Captain Renfield ran a hand through his short, blonde hair.

"Siegfried, sitrep! ASAP!"

"_Beruhigen Sie sich, amerikanische_. The crew is unharmed; it was just a particularly strong Slipspace portal. I am positive the CAS Task Force is well, also." The voice drawled. A small figure of a man dressed in animal furs popped up from a holoprojector. He donned a horned helmet, and wore a sword strapped to his broad back.

"Well then, contact the Arbiter's ship. Making sure won't hurt."

Siegfried shrugged and waved a hand. The image of the Arbiter popped up on the screen.

"Captain Renfield, I presume?" the Sangheili leader said in a deep voice.

"The one and only. Is your crew safe?"

"Of course. It was just a particularly strong Slipspace portal."

Siegfried put a hand over his mouth, trying to suppress laughter. Renfield ignored the gesture and smiled thinly.

"That's good. What is our next course of action, Arbiter?"

The Arbiter looked at something out of the screen view and pointed.

"First, I propose we investigate what that unknown fleet of ships wants to do with us."

The now fully awake Bridge crew turned to look out the observation window. Hundreds of ships of unknown make and origin floated in front of them. They all had different designs, some large, ring-shaped, and stationary, while others were thin, stiletto looking, and small. A cry from a nearby officer awoke the crew from their trance.

"Captain, they are hailing us!"

"Patch them through!"

A horrific visage appeared on the screen, causing Chips and Pete to stumble back in fright. It looked mechanical, with gray, steel-like plates covering its face. Fleshy, pink skin poked out from the eyeholes, carrying bright, yellow eyes that reminded Dubbo of a cat. It spoke with a harsh, gritty voice.

"Greetings, I am General Grevious! Tell me who you are, or I shall crush your little fleet and turn you into dust!"

**AN: The 117****th**** fleet isn't only comprised of Supercarriers. Just a lot. Another thing, I think you've noticed that I like writing **_**in medias res.**_** That'll be the majority of my style. To those of you who reviewed, thanks for the comments, and for those of you who didn't, please do!**

** -EtchedInDiamond **


	7. A Grevious Encounter

**AN: Whew! Sorry for the looong wait, guys! I had a huge case of writer's block. Plus, you know with finals coming up, the usual. This isn't my best work, since I didn't spend too much time reviewing it. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Aboard **_**Landschneckt**_

**1245 hours**

It was the Arbiter who spoke first.

"I implore that you refrain from such hostilities," the Sangheili asked graciously, "We are merely strangers in a new realm. There is no need for-"

"Silence, vermin! Say nothing else but who you are and where you come from." It grated out.

The Arbiter was silent. The Sangheili was fuming in rage, having his pride hurt so deeply. Captain Renfield cut in for him.

"General, er, Grevious," the blonde American captain said, body tilted slightly in a formal bow. "I am Lou Renfield, temporary captain of the UNSC _Landschneckt_."

"I am the Arbiter, and that is all I will say to you." Vadam said with a low voice.

"Where are you from?" Grevious demanded, yellow eyes staring unflinchingly at the crew.

"From…" Renfield began, trying to think up of the appropriate words.

"Somewhere else." The Arbiter finished.

"Ha! What kind of answer is that?" Grevious barked. "Surely you are Republic spies, here to do the Senate's bidding. A cowardly Jedi must be there with you. Show him!"

Renfield rubbed the back of his head in confusion.

"Republic? Spies? You're probably mistaken-"

"Enough!" The monster turned away from the screen, revealing hooked feet and a gray, red-hemmed cape. The screen turned off with a zap.

There was a silence.

"What the Sam hill was that all about?" Stacker cried.

"Captain!" Siegfried's image materialized from a holoprojector. "Starboard turrets on the enemy's ship are giving off massive radiation waves."

"Plasma?" Renfield whispered, severely puzzled.

"Captain, there is no time!" The Arbiter urged. "I will follow First Contact protocol and respond with force. Will you join me or not?"

The captain nodded, mouth working soundlessly as he watched the enemy fire. Long shafts of bright, green energy lanced from the enemy turrets. They raced across the void, eventually battering against the side of the _Landschneckt_. The Supercarrier rumbled, and Chips fell to the ground. _Man, that was strong_, the Sergeant thought as he picked himself up. Out the observation window, he saw the Arbiter's Task Force slowly position into attack sequence. The enemy's fleet mimicked them, coming up side-by-side. Dubbo heard Stacker curse behind him.

"Looks like we're in a whole lot of trouble."

"You're wrong."

Both Sergeants turned to see the AI Siegfried materialize next to them. It unsheathed his large broadsword, revealing long codes of blue data running down the length of the blade.

"How so?" Chips asked.

"Survey the enemy force. Although larger in numbers and a slight technological advantage, we have the supreme firepower. I did a quick scan of their defenses and layout, and it seems most have weaker shields and a crew entirely made up of mechanical personnel." The AI twirled its sword like a baton.

"This battle is ours."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

General Grevious watched the unknown force decimate his fleet. The furious android noticed a _Recusant_-class light destroyer being gutted from rear to stern by a lightning-fast missile. He snarled in rage and slammed his fist down onto the armrest of his control chair.

At first, he knew nothing about the capabilities of the strange fleet, so he decided to provoke them to find out. After a quick crossfire, he discovered the utilized both energy-based and projectile-based weaponry. Seeing that his own weapons were a bit stronger, Grevious did not back down. Soon, however, he found out he made a grave mistake. They were pummeling him! He rose from his chair, coughing harshly as he did.

"Send for my Magnaguards and prepare a boarding craft. Also, get a group of Super Battle Droids. I need to get on their capital ship."

The technician droid nodded and called through the speakers. Grevious stalked out the Bridge, fingering his four lightsabers at his hip.

The intruders would pay.

Captain Renfield watched a Longsword-interceptor obliterate an enemy fighter with ease. He smirked. The machine was bluffing after all. The amused Captain estimated that this battle would be done in about an hour. Siegfried popped up beside him.

"Curious. The enemy utilizes an all-droid military force. Extremely inconvenient and weak."

"And stupid, I might add."

He watched three of his Supercarriers circle around an enemy craft and bombard it with MACs. The ship crumpled and detonated in a fiery explosion. The combined force of his Longsword-interceptors and the Arbiter's Seraph fighters outmatched the small, nimble fighters of the enemy.

He looked back at the Bridge crew.

Jan Yesenin ran ops, Kirk Aleman did navigations, while Shirley Pawl overlooked weapons.

"Order the flyboys to take the Cutlasses for a run," he ordered. He pointed out the window at a large, dagger-like ship in the enemy formation. "Tell them to cut a path to that ship for our boarding craft to launch."

"Aye-aye, sir." Shirley responded.

She muttered into the COM.

"Oh, and yes,"

"Sir?" Pawl asked.

"Call the Spartans."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Staff Sergeant Gus Simmons stood up, hearing the woman's voice echo through the hectic hangar. He was a medium-aged man of thirty-seven, owning enough facial hair and scars to prove he was a grizzled veteran. He turned to his men.

"Alright, boys. Looks like we got a mission on our hands."

They cheered, finally called on for a run.

"We've done the simulations; passed the test runs. Now, we can finally fly the Cutlasses."

The pilots cheered once more, eyes alight with the challenge.

The GA-TL2 Cutlass-class interceptor was a fighter mainly for the use of strafing, dogfights, and doing sufficient damage to an enemy fighter population. Mass produced 2561, it was made to be a secondary fighter, something to bolster the prime Longsword-interceptor. It looked like a slimmer version of the Longsword, wings sticking closer to the cockpit and thrusters in a tight column in the rear. Only one person could drive the ship, which made it faster and easier to control. Twin missile launchers attached to the bottom of the fighter, just below the cockpit. It was shielded, strong enough to withstand both plasma and projectiles. Gus smiled, pure-white teeth gleaming underneath the artificial light above them. _Time to put these babies in action_, he thought eagerly. He and his team swaggered over to where the Cutlasses were docked, helmets tucked underneath their arms. Gus donned his, and positioned himself into the cockpit. The protective covering closed down on top of him. He gripped the wheel and pressed the correct buttons. He felt the ship rumble and lift itself up from the floor.

"Alright, boys! Let's get 'em!" he yelled into the COM.

The Cutlass-interceptors flew into the void, followed by four Pelicans bearing perhaps one of the most precious cargos in the UNSC.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Master Chief Petty Officer Paul-089 twirled a combat knife in his fingers, sharpened edge creating deadly arcs in the air. He was a SPARTAN-IV, one of the one hundred and thirty two men and women who had succeeded in becoming a part of the famed supersoldier program. At 6'10, 235 lbs. without his MJOLNIR armor, and his special training, he was a formidable enemy. Among his fellow Spartans, he was a born leader. During their brutal training in Camp Laconia, Nevada, he shone out among the rest, capable of taking control over a situation and carrying it through with success. In his blue MJOLNIR MARK-VI armor, he was the epitome of the SPARTAN program. The only ones who could actually beat him from time to time were Lieutenant Vincent-123 and Major Harold-164. He shook his head, clearing his mind from the past. He had a mission.

The objective was to capture what seemed to be the enemy flagship, a long, dagger-like craft brashly positioned at the front of the formation. The Cutlass-interceptors would clear the way, strafe the ship, and wait for the Pelicans to board. That was the easy part. After that, he and his team had the responsibility to secure a landing zone for additional boarding craft to arrive. In a hangar where Intel about the enemy force was nil. He sighed. It seemed impossible, but that was a Spartan's job. To prove the impossible possible. He surveyed his SPARTAN team in the Pelican.

Petty Officer Third-Class Carl-021 lightly stroked the side of his M90 Shotgun, caressing it like a newborn baby. He was the heavy weapons specialist, obligated to kill as many enemies with the biggest guns possible. His bulk was enormous, easily over seven feet. It was hard to believe he wasn't the strongest of the SPARTAN-IVs, but no, that title belonged to Petty Officer Xavier-071.

Chief Petty Officer Raj-160 was carefully loading bullets into his Magnum sidearm, looking tiny sitting next to Carl. He was the quietest of the batch, and that was saying something, considering they were Spartans. His actions spoke louder than his words, however, as he had the highest confirmed kills out of all of them. He wore dark green Mark V armor.

Petty Officer Second-Class Reese-114 sat next to Paul, in his sky-blue Mark VI. He was the friendly type, always eager to make new acquaintances and form new ties. That set him apart from the rest, but that didn't hinder his combat ability one bit. He was the fastest among the Spartans, record speed 60 KPH, just below the famous SPARTAN-II Kelly-087.

The Pelican shuddered, and the pilot's voice squawked into the COM.

"My fault. Got hit by one of their goddamned fighters. Laser struck portside, but it's nothing serious."

Paul released his breath. If the ship had been fatally damaged, all his years of training and experience would go down the drain. His men's, too. The pilot patched through to the other Pelicans, checking if they were fine. They were good, too. The ships held about twenty-five ODSTs. Valuable cargo for sure.

Booms signified the Cutlass-interceptors strafing of the enemy ship. The pilot once again spoke.

"Okay, Spartans! Do your magic!"

Paul couldn't resist a smirk. _Magic_, he though, _Spartans have no magic. Just a hell of a lot of training and technology. _The aft hatch opened, and Paul leaped into the grey-tinted hangar.

He lifted his MA5B Assault Rifle, scope surveying every inch of the strange hall. It was mostly flat, not having several layers of platforms and walkways like the regular UNSC bay hangars. Several ships lay docked on the surface, unmanned and still. It was completely silent. Reese sidled over to him, Battle Rifle held at the ready.

"How come there's nobody here?" he whispered, not looking over to him. Raj and Carl joined them, weapons held in front of them steadily.

"Honestly, I don't know," he replied, kicking over a scrap of metal on the scorched floor. It held an inscription on the side.

_Corellian Engineering Corporation_

What did that even mean?

Paul stored that name into his memory and looked up. The other Pelicans landed, aft hatches slowly opening. Groups of ODSTs poured out, led by a grizzled man in army fatigues and hat.

"Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker, at your service. How's the situation?" the man said with a southern accent.

"Fine so far. Hangar's unusually silent, but that just makes our job easier."

As soon as he said that, an elevator door to their right opened with a beep. A pair of the strangest things Paul had ever seen walked out. They were tall, taller than the Spartans. They had black, skinny arms and legs, but a torso so broad it easily dwarfed the biggest ODST. It bore no head; just a shallow protrusion running down the length of the body. Red light shone from the top. Both turned towards the group and raised their thin arms. Paul, realizing what was going to happen, yelled in warning.

"Get down! They're going to shoot!"

The ODSTs scrambled for cover. Bright red bars of plasma lanced from the top of the strange machines' wrists. Paul sidestepped, avoiding one of the shots. It struck the hull of a flipped storage crate. It burned straight through, leaving a gaping hole. Paul grimaced and sprang into action. He emptied his clip into one of the machines, forcing it back a step. Unsheathing his combat knife from the holder, he flung it with expert precision. The blade embedded itself into the duranium skin of the droid. Electricity fizzed from the wound. The droid's partner turned and brought up its arm for a shot. Carl appeared beside it, silent despite his massive size.

He kicked it behind the leg, tearing the skinny limb from its mechanical socket. The droid stumbled. Carl lifted his shotgun and blasted at point blank range. The machine burst apart from the shells. Before the other droid could recover, Paul waved a hand.

"Give it all you got!"

The combined fire of the Spartans and ODSTs quickly left the droid in scraps of metal. Paul tilted his head at the open elevator door. Stacker nodded. He quickly addressed his men.

"Foley, Durdon, Alighieri, guard the door. Watch out for more of those machines. The rest of you, you're with me and the Spartans."

The group entered the spacious elevator hatch. The door closed behind them. A whir and a rumble indicated they were moving up. They waited a few seconds, anticipation flooding their minds. The platform slowed, and Paul readied his weapon. The door opened, and Paul jumped out, scanning the hallway for any enemies. There was none. The rest of them filed out. Paul made a swift motion with his hand. They started moving forward, ever so cautious.

Suddenly, two brown circles wheeled themselves into the path of the UNSC soldiers. They opened up, joints and parts disengaging into something that resembled an upright beetle. A blue film of energy coalesced around the pair, creating a spherical shield. Immediately, they started firing the same red lasers the other machines did. Paul took a few, depleting his shields but giving him time to fire. To his dismay, the bullets just pinged off the blue shield. The Spartan took cover behind a metal protuberance of the wall. The others did similarly, except for two men who quickly fell beneath the onslaught of plasma fire. Paul felt a pang of rage, but rapidly forced it down. He had a job to do. He took a frag grenade from his utility belt and lobbed it over the wall. A loud boom indicated its detonation. Paul risked a peek and cursed. Although their protections flickered, the two machines looked fine. The only way to break the shield was by force.

"GRENADES!"

Twenty-two ODSTs and four Spartan-IVs opened chucked their grenades. They crouched down, covering their heads. A gigantic explosion sounded, shaking the narrow corridor. Paul looked up. The two things were obliterated. All that was left were scraps. He sighed. At least that was over. The sound of footsteps snapped him back into action. He whirled around, rifle up.

Five red-armored Elites, Zealot class, were standing there, plasma rifles in hand. The lead one stepped forward and saluted.

"Tapa 'Lokaree. My strike force and I landed shortly after you. We would be happy to give you assistance."

"We appreciate it, Tapa," Stacker said before Paul could respond. "I believe the Bridge is this way."

The team moved forward and the door opened. They were in a large chamber, with thin droids operating each individual station. A trio of the tall machines from the hangar caught sight of them and started firing. The group separated. Each blaster shot missed, scoring a plasma burn into the cold metal flooring. Reese and Raj hurdled towards the three droids in breakneck speed. They parted, each going for a separate target. Raj jumped and sent a kick at the head of one of them. It connected, sending the droid to the floor. He landed on top of it and fired three quick bursts with his Magnum, killing it.

Reese plainly tackled the machine against a wall. Pure momentum and strength broke it in two, wires and sparks bursting from the divide. The third paid no heed, firing at the dispersed group. Tapa and a fellow Sangheili sneaked up behind it and ignited energy swords. They lunged as one. Two blades of focused plasma poked from the front of the droid. It shook, and then died.

The ODSTs and Stacker finished off the rest of the Bridge crew, yelling in delight. Soon, they were the only ones left.

"Make a barricade," Sergeant Stacker ordered, since he was the ranking officer. "There's sure to be more of them coming."

Paul and the others began forming a makeshift barricade in front of the door. The rest relaxed for a bit, inspecting the curious Bridge.

"Strange," Tapa commented, eyeing the room with suspicion.

"What is it?" Stacker asked, removing his hat from his head.

"This is the ship from which we received the transmission, no?" the Elite inquired.

"I'm pretty sure. Brass wouldn't send us if it weren't." the Texan replied.

"Then where is the ghastly abomination that threatened the great Arbiter and your Captain Renfield?"

Stacker was left speechless. He turned to an ODST reclining on a swivel chair.

"Quick, radio in to command. Ask them what the situation is."

The soldier set up a comms device, listening to the frantic speech emitting from the speakers. Fear crept into the hardened soldier's voice.

"Sir, they're saying the Arbiter's flagship has been boarded, and that General Grevious is inside."

Then, it was static.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Ungh!"

General Grevious finished choking the four-mandible alien in polished armor, dropping its carcass to the ground.

"Vermin," he sneered. "They're all vermin."

He and his boarding crew were in a narrow hallway covered in a purple material that looked almost organic. They had met fierce opposition on their way to the Bridge, and already he had lost twelve of his guards. He coughed, and then spat on the ground in distaste.

The crew had mostly utilized armed dwarves as their infantry. Grevious found it pathetic. The midgets would scream in terror and flee when faced with tough opposition. There were also bird-like creatures wielding plasma guns and wrist shields. They were slightly harder to get through, but they were frail and thin. The tall, armored aliens with four mandibles and dark beady eyes bothered him the most. They faced Grevious' entourage without fear, and went down fighting, firing their balls of blue energy at him with courage. They were too like the Jedi, and that made him irritated. He moved down the hall, four lightsabers whirring in front of him. One of the small ones appeared in his path, and he relished in its dying screams. The remaining ten Magnaguards and seventeen Super Battle Droids cut down the rest with mechanical efficiency. The door to the Bridge waited not far off. General Grevious roared in triumph and jumped.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The Arbiter readied his energy sword, the sounds of the dying Unggoy soldiers reaching his ears. He disliked having to sacrifice troops, but it was necessary for the gathering of his personal guard. Fifteen Zealots circled him, plasma rifles and energy swords held out in front of them. A formation of Kig-Yar stood at the door, pistols charged and ready. A swarm of Unggoy awaited on the upper levels, chattering excitedly.

Suddenly, four shafts of red and blue energy stuck out from the interior of the locked entrance. They erupted into a windmill of motion, creating a melted hole through the door. A blur of white and red burst from the fissure. The phalanx of Kig-Yar scattered, charred bodies thrown up in the air. The Arbiter's soldiers opened fire. The blur moved back, plasma fire trailing after it. It stopped, revealing the hulking figure of the General. It chortled harshly and spun his strange energy sabers. The plasma shots hit and deflected, causing Thel's forces to scatter. The Arbiter grimaced and ignited his energy sword.

"Give no quarter to the invaders! Slay them all!"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Captain Renfield fell to the floor, shaking his head as the _Landschneckt _suffered another hit. Standing, he stared with hatred at the three enemy ships closing in on them. By this time, all other help was occupied at the moment, so it was all up to him.

"Siegfried, we can't take another hit like that! Divert all energy from main engines to shields."

"Already on it, sir."

The enemy ships fired another barrage of green energy. The shafts dissipated on the shields, but the thin film of energy flickered and died.

"Captain, shields are offline!"

"Alright, fire MAC cannon at the nearest ship!" he yelled.

The metal projectile fired, magnetic coils propelling the missile towards the enemy vessel. It punched a hole straight through hull, causing the ship to stagger off course.

"Fire Archer missiles!"

Hundreds of missiles streaked towards the crippled ship. They hit, blowing it to smithereens. The other two vessels refocused on the _Landschneckt _and charged their turrets.

"Siegfried, change course and avoid those shots."

The massive Supercarrier shuddered and moved, avoiding all but four of the over-charged turbolasers. The ship rumbled and groaned, once more bringing the captain to his knees.

"Captain, multiple hull breaches on Deck 2A and C," Kirk warned, brow shining with sweat. "Engineers are hurrying to repair, but we don't have much time."

"Fire MAC gun again!" Renfield roared.

The missile shot towards one of the ships and collided in a burst of kinetic energy. The vessel exploded, spreading a sphere of debris and fire throughout space. The remaining ship glowed menacingly and prepared to fire…

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The Arbiter brought his sword down on the mechanical abomination's dismembered body, sending flurries of sparks into the air. The caped menace twitched then died, hand still gripping its purple, electrical rod. He straightened and leaped back just in time to dodge the bright green energy sword slashing at him.

General Grevious cackled and pursued the Sangheili noble, lightsabers cutting the air in deadly arcs. His remaining two Magnaguards followed after him, supporting his rear. The battle-hungry android swung his saber. The tall alien with the strange sword ducked and lunged at Grevious with graceful movements. Grevious leaned back and growled as the curved tip of the blue blade grazed his metal face, making a deep cut. The General jumped backwards, landing on the railing of the upper deck like a cat.

"Coward," Thel Vadam snarled, now engaging the two Magnaguards. "Come back and fight me!"

Grevious chuckled.

"Now why would I do that, vermin? You are strong, I will give you that, but you experience fatigue like all other beings. However, I do not. I'll just wait for you to kill my Magnaguards, then, when you're tired, I'll kill you."

The Arbiter roared in fury but continued to fight, dodging the electric rods doggedly.

Grevious cackled, but was cut short by the zap of a particle beam rifle. The general ducked, narrowly evading the focused plasma. Grevious whirled and saw a red-armored alien warrior holding a long gun, obviously aimed at the Separatist leader. Grevious growled. He had thought he and his soldiers had finished all of them off. _Obviously not_, he said in his mind. The gigantic android propelled his body like a bullet, trapping the warrior beneath his hooked feet. The alien howled and spit on the white duranium exterior of Grevious' skin. The general curled his toes, crushing the thing with delight. The alien gurgled, armor and bones snapping from the force of Grevious' crush. It finally succumbed, a twisted hulk of its former glory. Grevious laughed.

He felt the force of a cargo barge slam into him. Grevious flew in the air and hit a bloodstained bulkhead. He slumped, but soon recovered. He turned, seeing the other Sangheili leap fifteen yards across the Bridge towards him. Grevious' eyes widened, and he jumped sideways just in time.

The Arbiter slammed his energy sword against the wall. He turned to the giant android.

"When I am finished with you, abomination," he growled, "I will scatter your entrails across this deck and cast your filthy cape into the dark void of space."

Grevious felt the familiar feeling of fear creep into his frail, artificial heart. Pushing it down, he threw his lightsaber at the alien. The Arbiter slashed his blade, knocking the saber off its trajectory. It flew in the air and stuck itself on a nearby navigation panel. Thel sneered and went into a fast run, sprinting towards the general. Grevious roared and charged.

The two leaders dashed towards each other. The Arbiter with his lone energy sword, and Grevious with his three lightsabers. They raised their weapons high, giving one continuous yell of challenge.

They met in a clash of blue and green.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Renfield opened his eyes, wondering why he wasn't dead yet. He looked around the Bridge. Everything seemed fine, albeit a bit disorganized. Judging by the looks of confusion on his crew's faces, they were probably wondering the same thing. Siegfried's image popped up beside him on the TACMAP.

"Sir, I recommend you look outside."

Renfield did just that.

Dozens of large, triangular-shaped vessel had appeared out of nowhere. They all bore the same basic shape, but some had distinct coloring, such as a stark red stripe running down the center of the ship. They opened fire on the enemy ship, using the same weaponry but blue-colored. The vessel that was so threatening to the _Landschneckt _just moments before was reduced to bits of pulverized metal. With the arrival of these strange new allies, the enemy fleet seemed in disarray.

"Sir, they're hailing us." Siegfried informed Renfield.

"Patch them through."

The image of a stern-looking mustached man in a gray uniform appeared on the holoprojector. He brushed back his dark hair formally and cleared his throat.

"Greetings, I am Admiral Wulff Yularen of the Grand Army of the Republic. It seems you are in quite a situation. We would be happy to assist." The man said in what sounded like a British accent.

Renfield nodded, and then regained his composure.

"Yes, your help would be much appreciated. I am Captain Lou H. Renfield, temporary commander of the 117th Fleet, UNSC. Our ally, the Arbiter, has been boarded by a General Grevious. We haven't received further contact from him, so he must be in grave danger."

Yularen's face darkened at the mention of the General.

"We are aware of this General Grevious. He is a major enemy of the Galactic Republic, and we will do anything to erase him. Please, let us handle this."

The hologram clicked shut.

"It seems they have a vendetta against this 'Grevious' character," Siegfried remarked.

"It doesn't concern me," Renfield sighed, sitting back in his command chair. "All I am is glad that this Admiral Yularen came to help us. I don't know who or what this 'Galactic Republic' is, but the UNSC and Confederation of Allied Species owes them a huge debt."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Lightsaber and energy sword met in a clash of sparks and plasma. General Grevious grunted and pushed. The Arbiter snarled and pushed back. They were in a deadlock, each trying to gain physical supremacy over the other. Grevious had the advantage with his enhanced strength, but the pure, righteous anger of Thel Vadam proved to be a match.

Grevious suddenly released the hold, causing the Arbiter to stumble forward. The android hopped into the air and brought his feet down in a savage strike. Thel rolled just in time. The hooked claws of Grevious tore the deck where Thel had been seconds before. The general growled and faced the Arbiter once more.

"You are a worthy adversary, Grevious. I would call you a fellow warrior, but your dishonoring of my comrades forces me not to. You are a worm, and I shall tear you in half." The Sangheili said, raising his energy sword in a weary salute.

"Ha!" Grevious grated. "You are the insect. Your precious brothers could not even last mere seconds against me, let alone my droids. You are their better, but you are still incompetent. When I am done slaying you, I shall add your curious blade to my collection."

They prepared to charge once more.

Master Chief Petty Officer Paul-089 leaped into the fray, dual assault rifles blazing in each hand. Bullets pinged off Grevious' duranium armor, and he spun around to see a whole host of enemies charging towards him.

Four tall, armored humanoids entered the Bridge, golden visors shimmering underneath the light of the overhead projectors. They carried slim, black guns, which apparently fired projectiles. A group of black suited humans with similar helmets came into view, holding the same dark guns. Then, more aliens like his adversary loped in, surveying the scene of carnage that lay before them. Right then and there, Grevious knew this was a battle he could not win.

Paul stared at the Bridge. Bloated, Confederation bodies lay strewn across the deck, multi-colored blood staining the metal floor. Remains of hulking droids were there also, but were pitifully few compared to the aliens. The Arbiter was crouching in a battle stance, staring off to the right. Paul followed his gaze. A giant, white-armored monster stood not far off, holding strange energy swords in three of his four hands. Bright, yellow eyes, slitted like a cat's, stared back at the Spartan. With a swirl of its gray cape, it rushed him.

And met half a ton of Spartan-IV on the way.

Carl tackled the general, slamming him across a bulkhead. Avoiding the energy swords, the massive Spartan fired his shotgun at close range. The android screamed in pain and flung Carl back with his legs. Carl slammed his palms on the deck and rolled, landing with ease. Grevious moved in a blur of motion, making his way down a side hall.

"Get him!" the Arbiter commanded, "Do not let him escape!"

The Zealots eagerly pursued the general, hoping to avenge the deaths of their brothers. The Spartans and the ODSTs followed suit. The Arbiter watched them go, and when they were gone, he sighed and slumped down on a chair.

"Feeling a bit tired, Arby?"

Thel stood and pointed his sword at the unknown person. He relaxed and dropped the blade when he saw who it was.

"Stacker. I have not seen you since the memorial on your planet." The Arbiter greeted, sitting back down on his seat.

Stacker nodded and set his assault rifle down on the floor.

"Life's been good to me since then. Chips and me met up at the Gate World. We haven't seen each other since an op in Vladivostok."

"You mean that aggravating man with the peculiar accent? Sometimes I wish he didn't survive the first ring."

Stacker chuckled at that and grinned.

"Me too, bud. Me too."

They were silent for a while, watching the naval battle outside the ship.

"What do you think about the Master Chief?" Pete said quietly, almost a whisper.

"The Demon?" Thel answered. He shifted uncomfortably at that. "I do not believe he is dead, if that is what you mean. It will take more than that to end the Scourge of the Prophets."

The Arbiter stood, pressing a glowing panel with one extended digit. His voice magnified, echoing throughout the ship.

"All surviving CAS forces converge in the Bridge. I repeat, all remaining CAS personnel, report to the Bridge."

Seconds later, the holographic image of Captain Renfield materialized on a projector. He sighed in relief.

"Ah, Arbiter. It's good to see you're okay. I take it you eliminated the threat?"

"If it were so easy," Thel grumbled. "My Zealots and your ODSTs and Spartans are pursuing the target as we speak, though I doubt they will succeed. The general is fast, too fast."

Soon enough, Paul and the others walked back into the Bridge.

"We weren't able to nab him," the Spartan reported, a bit dejected. "He moved too fast, and by the time we made it to the hangar, he was leaving on a boarding craft."

Renfield, overhearing this, sighed.

"Well, I guess that's one more enemy on the loose."

Paul noticed the hologram of the captain and saluted, the other UNSC soldiers following suit.

"At ease, Spartan. You did well," Renfield said. "Anyways, it seems we have newfound allies. They call themselves the Galactic Republic, and they saved my ship from destruction. They have some agenda against the organization Grevious belongs to, and they won't be happy we let him go."

"Will that affect our relationship with their government?" The Arbiter asked.

"Fortunately, no. They offered to let us recuperate at their capitol, a planet called Coruscant. And that's not the good news."

"What is?" Stacker interjected.

"Apparently, they made contact with a ship also going under the wing of the UNSC. It was named the _Conquistador_."

"That's the missing exploration ship," Paul whispered.

"My nephew was aboard that vessel," Thel commented. "Is the crew well?"

"They're relatively unharmed, although Admiral Yularen said that their stay on Coruscant is under danger, something about a club fight."

"Captain?" Paul said.

"Yes, soldier?"

"Are our fellow Spartans okay?"

"They are. Yularen commented about that. He said that a certain Xavier-071 and Lieutenant Vincent-123 were responsible for the commotion at the night club."

"Vince?" Reese said, a bit surprised. "I can understand Xavier getting into that crap, but Vince?"

"Don't worry, Spartan. We'll have it figured out. In the meantime, rest easy. We won't be fighting for a while."

With that said, Renfield's image dissipated.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Mustafar**

Count Dooku listened as General Grevious told his story. They were gathered around a meeting hall, the major Separatist leaders huddled around a chrome table as they listened to the irate General. The former Jedi was startled by the sudden turn of events. The Outer Rim Sieges had just begun, and it seemed their plans were going smoothly. Then this unknown force had appeared, right after the mysterious arrival of the strange ship. Grevious ended his retelling. The only sound in the boardroom was the labored huffing of Grevious. Dooku stood, dark cloak stirring like black wine.

"This new arrival might put a snag in our plans for a while." He addressed the conference.

Sounds of complaint and cursing erupted. Wat Tambor slammed his mechanical fist down on the table, yelling out obscenities. Poggle the Lesser turned to his officials, complaining. Dooku raised a delicate palm.

"_Silence._"

The room grew quiet. The count sighed and once again addressed the angry council.

"Although the Republic has gained new allies, we are not entirely without help."

"What help is this? What can possibly assist us now?" Nute Gunray inquired, face masked with despair.

"Apparently, the newcomers carry a spy. A spy for another group in their galaxy. A group that is entirely willing to help us destroy this new threat."

"Who?" Grevious coughed, finally speaking up after his story.

"They call themselves the Covenant, and are led by a Prophet of Reclamation. They are what's left of a former galactic superpower. At least that is what the spy told me in his last transmission."

Dooku strode across the room and faced the window. The lava of Mustafar leapt into the air, hissing and steaming. _The fires of Retribution_.

"With their help, we will crush all in our path, and the Republic and their new allies will suffer the consequences."

**AN: Hope you enjoyed it! R&R! **


	8. The Flood

**AN: Hey, guys. I'm back! Miss me? No? Okay... _*shifts ackwardly*_ Anyways...I have finally been able to get on the computer and type up the next chapter of HaloSWEndwar. It's been awhile, as I said before, because I've been devoting my time to studying for the Finals. Wish me luck on that. Also, just to warn you, there will be a time gap in this chapter. What went on will be explained, though.**

**Hexagonal: You're the first one to notice that! Yeah, the time gap was a mistake on my part. Admiral Yularen and Ayala were supposed to have a little chat about the origin of the UNSC vessel. After some conversation, Ayala informs the crew they would be going to Coruscant. Oh, and also, the Spartans met the Jedi (including Ahsoka). Sorry for the guys who wanted to see this take place. I just noticed the error a few days back, and I really don't find the point in going back and editing. Anyways, thanks for pointing it out! :)**

**Atrile: Don't worry. The "good guy" vs "good guy" action will come...**

**Just a Crazy-Man and RevanGrandMasteroftheGreyJedi: Thanks for all the positive comments! Here's more.**

**252 Reluctant Saviour: Thanks, dude. Also, I'm reading your stories too. Nice work, keep it up.**

**Separatist Supporter: Yes, the commando droids are bad-ass. They'll see some more action in the coming events.**

**Gamazek: 1, 250 meters. That was the intended size, and I know I made a few errors in the piece. Its not a major factor in the story.**

**DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those rights belong to Bungie and LucasArts. Any character not included in each companies' respective saga is mine. All the rest are theirs._**

**Enjoy!**

**_Three months after the Battle of the Entryway_**

**0134 hours, September 15, 2575 /(Military Calendar)\ GAR _Resolute_, Republic/UNSC/CAS joint task force, enroute to designated coordinates of Slipspace anomaly, Wild Space**

Wulff Yularen slowly rubbed his silver-streaked beard, scrutinously eying the vast expanse of space before him.

After the successful negotiations at Coruscant, the newfound governments set straight to finding out how to get back to their galaxy. The UNSC's and CAS' temporary leaders decided to mobilize all their remaining forces to the "point of entry". They suffered minimal casualties in the battle with Grevious, and decided a foray into the Wild Space wouldn't hurt. The Chancellor, being a kind and generous man, offered to lend some support in the form of a detachment of the Republic Navy led by Yularen himself. They accepted. Joined and bolstered by the Republic fleet, they jumped. Now, they were in a seemingly unexplored area of space where the UNSC and CAS had arrived.

He tore his gaze from the observation window and paced down the polished walkway. Clone officers were hurriedly inspecting their stations, checking if everything was ready and stable. A man in a clean-pressed Jedi tunic walked towards the Admiral.

"Ah, Kenobi," Yularen said, a grin forming on his face as he laid a gentle hand on the Jedi's arm. "I was wondering when you would leave your quarters."

The Jedi wasn't smiling, however. A dark expression masked his usually kind countenance, and the brown-haired Jedi leaned into the Admiral's ear.

"Admiral, I sense a great disturbance in the Force," he whispered. "Death and destruction await us if we continue."

Yularen's brow furrowed, obviously confused.

"My Jedi friend, there is naught but empty space before us. What can possible do this magnificent fleet harm?"

Obi-Wan continued to warn him.

"Please, Admiral. I do not want innocent Republic lives to be wasted. Nor do I want our newfound guests to be harmed. _Please_ consider my warning."

The Jedi nodded once, then exited the busy Bridge.

Wulff was thoroughly puzzled. He had never seen the Jedi Master so _frightened_. What he had seen in the Force must've gave him a good shock. Yularen waved it off. This fleet was invincible. He saw how the newcomers fought; they were no pushovers. Whatever threat Kenobi spoke of was probably an error in the Force's deduction.

_Nothing can harm us_.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Onboard UNSC **_**Landschneckt**_

Captain Renfield slowly sipped his coffee, relishing the warm sensation as it flowed down his sore throat. He withdrew it from his mouth, lips still caked with remnants of coffee sauce. He wiped it with his sleeve, not really caring that the suit was brand-new. He was just glad that the hecticness of the past few days were finally over.

Negotiating with the, what he found as, _pompous_ Galactic Senate was frustrating. Even with the help of several experienced diplomats (on the UNSC and the CAS), the senators were tough nuts to crack. Theories ranged from Separatist allies to a new "Sith" empire. Whatever the hell "Sith" were Renfield didn't know. Now all that mattered was sitting back in a snug command chair sipping down a warm cup of joe. _And also finding out how to get home_, his conciousness helpfully pointed out. He grimaced. _Yeah, that too_.

"Captain?"

Renfield started, almost spilling his mug of coffee on the stained steel flooring.

"Yeah, what's up? Uh, I mean, what is it?" he stammered, looking up at the waiting man.

Private Sam Rooley raised an eyebrow, eying the half-awake captain before him. After a few ackward seconds, he spoke.

"Sir, we got something on the scanners."

"What?"

"I suggest you come look."

The short, almost squat man in the blue jumpsuit led him to a corner, where a few officers were huddled around. They looked up, sensing his presence, and saluted.

"At ease. What have we got?" Renfield ordered, peering at what looked like a giant ring floating next to the electronic representation of a gas giant.

"Sir, isn't it obvious?" one of the ensigns said, a female. Her dirty-blonde hair was matted with sweat, and there was a scared look in her blue eyes.

"Already some of the Republic ships are approaching it! We've got to stop them!" another one said, this time a red-headed male. _Lieutenant O'Riley_, Renfield remembered.

"Stop them from what?" the captain snapped, getting frustrated.

Renfield looked closer at the screen, then yelped, almost dropping his coffee. Cursing, he stalked away, rushing over to a seated officer.

"Veracruse! Contact the rest of the fleet! Tell them to stay away from that ring!"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Onboard UNSC **_**Conquistador**_

__Captain Franscico Ayala surveyed the shifting TACMAP, his trusted officers and the rest of the Spartans gathered around him. The fleet was assembled around the seemingly harmless ring next to the gas giant. They knew better. Ayala sighed and inwardly sorted the past events in his head.

After the fight at the night club, he had to do a lot of kissing up to the Galactic Senate, not to mention the irked Coruscant Security Force. Apologizing for the rude and uncalled for behaviour at _Sleepless_, the crew barely avoided a banishment from the city's hospitality. Ayala really didn't know why they were willing to hand out such a severe punishment. He figured that kind of stuff happened all the time, especially in such an enormous city-planet. Nevertheless, he had to punish the crew members who started the mess.

To Sergeant Holloway, he decreed a week long swabby-duty in the mess hall. The grizzled Marine had moaned at this, but a stern look from Ayala shut him up. The ODSTs were barred from any combat for the next two weeks, and that was considered punishment enough for the battle-crazed soldiers.

He couldn't do much with the Spartans, since he considered them too valuable an asset to critically punish. Although he have Vincent and Xavier a hard lecture, that was about as much he could do.

He had no idea how the CAS punished their soldiers, but he guessed it wasn't pretty.

For the lone Jedi who had personally escorted the UNSC/CAS soldiers, he also had no idea as to what befell him.

Disregarding that, the past week was a blur. A Republic messenger had arrived at the Bridge, informing the captain and his crew of the arrival of the UNSC/CAS battle group. At first, they were STUNNED. They had no idea that help would arrive at such short notice. When the group landed at the shipyards, there was a happy reunion. The captains and crews of the UNSC/CAS force were thrilled to finally rest, and the crew of the _Conquistador_ were overjoyed to see old friends. Ayala had reunited with several UNSC captains he had met over the years. The Spartans had met up with the other supersoldiers from the _Landschneckt_, and although they did well not to show it, they were relieved that the others were safe. Even Zor had a little get-together with his old uncle, the one and only Arbiter himself.

The battle group/Task Force had confronted General Grevious right after their forced jump, and had immediately engaged with the Separatist leader. Although losing a few ships, they looked in excellent shape.

After the negotiations, well...the rest is history.

Ayala exhaled wearily, red eyes glued to the digitalized ring in front of him. The Bridge crew was silent. No one had expected to encounter another Halo, especially in a whole new galaxy. He stood straighter, unwilling to show despair in front of his crew.

"I know you were not expecting this," he started, drawing the eyes of the gathered crew. "But it happened. Now, we have a new situation in our hands. Does anyone know what we're going to do? Cry like a baby and go back to Coruscant? NO! We are going to solve it and find a way home."

"Oo-rah.." A Marine who had managed to find a way into the Bridge whispered.

_Not just any Marine..._

"Holloway!" Ayala roared, finally recognizing the man. "Get back to the mess hall!"

The man cursed and slumped away, stalking out of the Bridge.

"He's a good man."

Ayala turned to see Major Harold walking up to him, flanked by the rest of Valor Team.

"He is, but that doesn't mean he's not irresponsible, vulgar, and a loud-mouth."

Harold chuckled.

"No, sir. It doesn't."

"Are we going to drop off our troops on the ring?" Vincent asked, always curious about the next mission.

"Frankly, I don't know what to do." Ayala sighed, focusing his attention away from Holloway and back to the situation. "All we _can _do is convince the Reps that the ring isn't harmless. With the Arbiter's backing, we might just do that."

"I'm sure we could take whatever's down there," Courtney scoffed. "With the help of Paul and the others, we'll drop in, look around, and come back."

"I'm not so sure about that," Ayala chided. "Remember what the UNSC discovered on the first Halo ring?"

"Fairy rainbow butterflies?" Xavier chimed in.

Ayala glared at the sarcastic Spartan.

"No, the Flood."

That shut everyone up.

"If the Flood are on this ring, then we _have _to destroy it."

"What if this Halo holds the secret to our way back?" Vincent said, a bit frustrated. "We can't just straight out blow it up."

"Now that, my young Spartan friend, is where it get's tricky,"Ayala said glumly. "There are too many factors to consider, so all we have to do right now is wait it out."

Seconds passed, then Vincent turned and walked politely out of the Bridge.

"I apologize, captain," Harold said. "Spartan IV's don't have the same emotional barriers as the previous Spartans. They can sometimes act like spoiled teenagers."

They all gave a condenscending glance at Xavier at that.

"Hey, don't hate." the Spartan said, running a gloved hand up and down his olive-green helmet.

"Anyways, I'll talk to the boy," said Harold. "I'll get it straight."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Onboard GAR Venator-class Star Destroyer **_**Starstreak**_

__At first, Captain Ulrik and his clone officers didn't know what the grey pods racing towards them from space were. They looked rusty, judging by the video taken by cameras outside the ship. Covered in what looked like a moldy fungus. Ulrick, puzzled by what they were, patched through to a nearby CAS battlecruiser. Seconds after sending the message, frantic replies came, telling them to destroy those pods. Ulrick, even more confused, asked why. The battlecruiser responded by heating up their lateral lines and firing heavy plasma shots at the pods, obliterating several of them.

By then, however, it was too late. The pods had slammed into the ship, several of them in the crowded main hangar. The ship was brought into combat alert, and soldiers from all across the destroyer had raced to the hangar, weapons primed. What they found shocked them.

There were hundreds of small, tentacled sacs of mold crawling around the hangar, jumping and attacking the desperate defending crew. Several latched on to the revealing band of skin between the helmet and armor, sticking their tentacles violently through the opening. The infected soldiers began to change, yellow patches beginning to develop on their skin, limbs bulging grotesquely from their sockets. They changed, abandoning their humanity and starting to attack their former comrades.

There were other forms as well.

Engorged mounds of pus-encrusted flesh wobbling on two legs, then falling and exploding. They sent the tiny ones into the air, creating more and more little menaces.

There were also large, bipedal ones with huge stalks on their oversized arms, striking at any alive organism .

Huge tank-like ones stormed the defenders, dragging their massive grey-tinged bulk around and crushing clones.

The clones tried their best, using their DC-15s to blast away any approaching monster, but to no avail. They were driven out of the hangar.

Right now, Alpha-class ARC trooper CT-5566436A a.k.a "Double-Digit" or Dig for short, was terrified.

He had experienced the worst battlefields imaginable, fought the reptilian Trandoshan slavers and Separatist droids, and avoiding skin-smoldering grenade explosions. But this was just hell.

He remembered the hangar and shuddered. He had seen good men die that hour.

He and a few clone troopers were hiding behind a hastily erected barricade near the crowded infirmary, watching out for any approaching monster. The sounds of whirring DC-15s and the boom of exploding thermal detonators resonated from up ahead. The occasional scream of a dying trooper reached Dig's ears, and he bit his lip behind his helmet. He shook himself, remembering the vast amounts of training he had gone through. This was just another trial, and he was certain he would pass it.

"Alright, troopers!" he adressed the men around him. "Sooner or later a heap of fungus is gonna waltz right in here and try to eat our heads off. Will we let 'em?"

"No, sir!" they yelled affirmatively.

"We may not be the 501st, but we're clone troopers, born and bred!"

They cheered.

Then the first monster turned the corner.

Engorged mounds of yellow skin burst from the armor of what was once a clone trooper. It stumbled down the hall, making harsh gurgly sounds as it did. It caught sight of the barricade, then roared, waddling over to the defenders.

"Open fire!" Dig ordered.

Streaks of blue lasers lanced towards the beast, tearing its limbs from the socket and felling it in two seconds.

Suddenly, five of the combat-suited forms charged them. Dig leaned back and chucked a thermal detonator over the barricade of medical desks. It landed, attaching to the sticky flesh of one of the things. It paused, wondering.

The blast reduced the aliens to bits of charred flesh.

The rest was shortlived however, as more intruders seemed to pour out from the outer hall. _Looks like the outer defenses failed_, Dig thought dryly as he blasted another combat form.

_Combat form_

_Hm, that sounds about right_, Dig thought.

"Take out those, er, _infection forms_, then focus your fire on the big combat forms!" he yelled over the din of blaster fire.

The clones renewed their efforts, wiping out the small, tentacled beings than firing at the large combat forms. The tactic seemed to work, driving out the once-menacing aliens.

_We just might survive this_, Dig thought with a grim smile.

Then one of the gigantic ones slumped down the hall. It roared, moving at a surprising speed for one so large. It rushed the makeshift barricade.

"Scatter!" Dig ordered desperately.

Most of the clones managed to avoid the charge just in time. The ones who failed to move faster were crushed by the tank-like being. Dig aimed down his scope and fired two shots at the thing's legs, bringing it down. He fired three more, scorching the beast on the head, chest, and lower torso. It began to shake violently.

To Dig's horror, it writhed and shivered until it's lower body went upright and formed a tail-like appendage, with barbed thorns sticking from the front. It fired without warning, striking Dig's clones with lightning speed. They fell one by one, overwhelmed by the combined force. Dig was the only one left standing between the parasite and the infirmary full of _occupied _soldiers.

He sighed, checked his ammo cartridge, and leaped into the horde of nightmare.

He fired left and right, avoiding squirming infection forms and the quick shots of the launcher. He ducked, narrowly avoiding a fast swipe from a combat form. He tackled it, pushing it to the floor. The red-armored ARC fired a burst of plasma into the thing's torso, spreading burnt intestines into the air. He dodged and weaved, shot and ducked, but there seemed to be no end to the monsters. He felt a sharp jab in his side.

"Fierfek!" he cursed, falling to the blood-stained ground. The pain was too much to even check the wound.

Through blurry vision, he saw the monsters approach him like carrion birds.

Then a blue giant blocked his line of sight.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Vince regarded the Flood froms before him with cold disregard. _So these were the monsters that nearly destroyed the UNSC and the Covenant_, he surmised. The parasites, a little taken aback by his sudden appearance, regained their courage and attacked.

Raising his dual submachine guns, he unleashed.

/XX\

The steady clatter of machine gunfire reached Paul's ears, and he was instantly drawn to the sound. He stood up from where he was inspecting a dead clone officer and gestured to the other Spartans.

They had been sent to the GAR _Starstreak_ to try to evacuate as many surviving crew as they can, whilst decimating any Flood that stood in their way. Right now, they were in the Bridge of the star destroyer.

The deck was in ruins, fallen bodies and machinery strewn across the floor. Sparks from trashed control panels leapt into the air, only to fall back down to the ground. Clones and Flood were lying on the deck, obviously dead. Paul and his team had encountered a trio of Combat Forms mauling a screaming man in a Captain's uniform, and rushed to help. After killing the Flood forms, they had found the man dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. There wasn't much left of him, either. Paul assumed it was Captain Ulrik, and radioed in to command. They told him that altough his death was unfortunate, there were many other lives to be saved.

Paul readily agreed.

Raj, Reese, and Carl paced over to their team leader.

Retrieving a small holoprojector from his pack, Paul switched it on. The Spartans watched as a diagram of a Star Destroyer burst from the pad, slowly turning around.

"Okay. Let's head to the rendezvous point here," he stated, pointing at a pod ejection hall to the port side of the destroyer. "We'll hold that position until Valor Team returns with survivors."

"Which won't be that many." Raj said coldly.

"Let's hope there are any survivors at all," Paul replied. "Let's move."

/XX\

"Why does he _always _do this?" Xavier complained, sprinting alongside Harold and Courtney as they tracked Vince's team signature on their HUDs.

"He's never been a real team player." Courtney huffed, having to lug her Spartan Laser all around the derelict ship.

"Stow that gab, soldier," Harold snapped. "We've got a job to do. Vince might be in critical danger."

The trio of Spartan-IVs turned a corner and almost slammed into a horde of Flood. Harold ground his heels into the floor, freezing. The other two did likewise.

The Flood seemed to be occupied, however. A blue-armored figure could be seen among the throng of parasites, firing dual submachine guns like there was no tommorow.

"Damnit, Vince," Courtney seethed.

"Look," Xavier remarked, pointing over ahead of the fight. A sign in red paint read: _Infirmary_.

"He's protecting the medical bay." Harold said, realization dawning on him.

"What'd you think our Vince would do?" Xavier chuckled, cocking his sidearm. "Prance around the star destroyer handing out lollipops to the Flood?"

Courtney lightly punched her teammate on the shoulder. Xavier snickered.

"Get ready, team. We're going to shoot our way through the Flood and take a position in that infirmary. Luckily, there'll be some additional troops in there."

"Yeah, additional troops with missing limbs and whatnot." Xavier commented.

"The point is," Harold continued, "There might be a back entrance to that infirmary, hopefully close to the designated rendezvous point. We'll lead the survivors and meet up with Paul and the rest. Then, we're homefree."

"You ready?" he asked.

Courtney and Vince nodded, all signs of playfulness gone as they prepared to enter battle.

"Go!"

The three Spartans jumped in, obliterating a group of Combat Forms who had their back turned. Xavier lifted a Tank Form by the torso and threw it down to the deck. It exploded like a watermelon, sending bits of flesh into the air. Courtney hefted the Spartan Laser and incinerated two more Tank Forms. Harold sprinted down the hall, crushing Infection Forms as he went. Gaining momentum, he leaped, tackling a Combat Form that was about to blind-side Vince. He brought down his MA5 repeatedly, pulverizing the Flood form to a pulp. He stood. The other Spartans were mopping up the rest of the once-threatening horde. Without breaking a sweat. Harold approached Vince.

His team member was crouching down by a clone trooper, but this one had red markings on his helmet, gloves and left pauldron. A barbed spike was sticking out from his side, piercing through the armor and the skin. His chest rose, indicating he was still alive. Harold tapped Vince on the shoudler. Vince nodded and lifted the injured trooper, being careful not to touch the wound. The clone groaned and slumped, limp in the massive Spartan's arms.

"He's unconsious," Xavier remarked, seeing the clone.

"No, really." Vince responded sarcastically.

"No time for chit-chat, people," Harold said, reloading his magazine. "Let's get to that infirmary."

They reached a shut doorway. A clone lay slumped against the wall, blood congealing around the surface of the floor. Courtney gently pushed it aside and knocked on the door.

"Open up! We're UNSC." she stated loud enough for anyone on the other side to hear.

The door slid open with a beep. The Spartans poked their weapons through, eyes scanning the haphazard medical bay. Four clones lay on separate beds, messy tool trays scattered around them. Medical droids worked busily on the injured troopers, unaware of the nightmare taking place on their ship. Six clones had their gun barrels aimed at the Spartans, but dropped them when they confirmed who they were. A clone walked up to them. Wearing white armor striped with looping blue strands, it was obvious he was high-ranking. A kama was attached to his hip.

He had his helmet off this time, giving the Spartans a first look at the universal face of the Republic clone trooper. He was richly tanned, having somewhat Pacific Islander features. His dark hair was cut short, military regulation. He extended his hand for a greeting.

"I'm Captain Rex, Torrent Company, 501st. We were in a bit of a pickle before you showed up." he said, speaking in a vague-sounding Pacific accent.

"Well, Captain Rex, you got your help." Harold said, gripping his hand somewhat half-heartedly. All Spartans were uncomfortable with intimate contact. Clearing his throat, he activated the COM and spoke to Paul.

"Green 5, do you copy? We've found some survivors in the infirmary and are heading to the rendezvous point immediately. Over."

There was some silence, but then the other Spartan replied.

"Affirmative. Be advised, multiple tangos approaching your position. Over."

Harold cut the connection and noticed his radar. Sure enough, a cluster of red dots were heading to the infirmary faster than he expected. Harold cursed and addressed the group.

"Looks like we got enemy forces coming to get us. Rex, do you wish to bring the injured with us?" Harold asked the clone captain.

Rex eyed the four bed-stricken clones for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. We leave no one behind."

Harold nodded pointed at the four clones. Courtney, Xavier, and Vince immediately moved to the beds and hefted one over their shoudler, Xavier taking two. The sounds of grunt, clicks, and footsteps reached their ears. Harold turned to Rex.

"Where's the nearest exit?" he asked.

"Down that side hall," he stated, pointing at a door on the far wall of the med bay. "It leads to the escape pods."

"Perfect. Valor Team, let's go!"

By that time, the remaining clones had managed to make a barricade blocking the door, and they looked to Rex for guidance.

"Follow them." the clone captain ordered, donning his helmet.

One of the clones pressed a button on the wall and the door slid open. They stuck their DC-15s out, then made the all-clear motion. They went first, followed by the three Spartans and Rex. Harold went through last, but not before seeing the second door burst open and the Flood pour into the medical bay. Ceiling autoturrets managed to take down a few, but a couple overhead swipes from the Combat Forms took them out. Harold stepped back and locked the door with the help of a clone.

They raced down the hall. Large, paned glass windows were on their left, and they saw multiple ships bearing down on them. _They're waiting for us to evacuate_, Harold concluded. He increased his sprint, yelling out to the others.

"Hurry, hurry! They're going to fire soon!"

They ran even faster, the first sounds of Flood pursuit sounding down the corridor. Finally, they reached the escape pod hatch. Paul, Raj, Reese, and Carl were gathered around the open hatch, piles of dead Flood around their feet. Carl grunted and lifted a clone from Xavier's other shoulder.

"Thanks, big guy." Xavier said, slapping him on the arm.

Paul walked over to Harold.

"No time, Paul! There's Flood in pursuit."

Paul snapped to attention and lightly shoved the last clone into the pod. Gripping Harold by the arm, he propelled both of them into the escape ship. The door shut, and soon the heavy pounding followed.

"Get us out of here!" Reese bellowed, gently cradling the bleeding head of a clone.

Rex took the pilot's seat and activated some controls. The pod shuddered once and disengaged from the doomed ship. The gathered ships, seeing the escape pod disengage, opened fire. Turbolasers, MAC missiles, and burning plasma orbs hit the ship, blowing it to smithereens in an instant. Along with the Flood.

The survivors let out a collective sigh of relief. Rex slumped in the cockpit and called out to the others.

"Is everyone okay?"

Xavier looked over to the captain and wearily put up a thumbs-up.

"Peachy."

**AN: Dig is pronounced "Dij". Please R&R!l**


	9. Gravemind

**AN: Here's the final chapter regarding the primary relationship between the UNSC/CAS and the Galactic Republic. Next, there will be a timeline relating the future events after this battle and chapters with new battles in new locations. This chapter is probably my shortest and my worst, due to the amount of time I worked on it (I wanted to get this segment over with). I know, the plot line is shabby, but bear with me here. I'll make it up for you in the chapters to come.**

**0150 hours, September 17, 2575 (Military Calendar)\ Wild Space, UNSC **_**Landschneckt**_**, Republic/UNSC/CAS joint task force, Wild Space, orbiting above Halo ring**

"What, my fellow leaders, will be our next course of action?"

Captain Renfield placed both his calloused hands on the edge of the star map and waited for an answer. The Arbiter stood to the side, armoured arms crossed on his broad chest. A group of the other Shipmasters stood behind him, including Zor' Mawasari. Next to them, Admiral Wulff Yularen and his subordinate captains sat down on plush leather seats, courtesy of Renfield. Behind Renfield stood the other UNSC skippers, including a curious Ayala.

Captain Renfield had called them over to his Supercarrier in order to discuss the enigma of the newly-found Halo ring. Yularen cleared his throat.

"Since the unfortunate demise of Captain Ulrik, _Starstreak_, and her crew, the threat awaiting us on the ring is far too risky to meet in combat," he stood, locking gazes with everyone in the map room. "I propose we blast the infernal thing from orbit."

An abrupt cacophany of complaints, disapproval, and agreement burst forth from the mouths of every individual in the room.

"The Admiral is right," A regal-looking Sangheili Shipmaster called from the side of the room. "The Flood is too dangerous of a threat to be held at bay! We must obliterate the ring before they can reach us once more!"

"The ring must be kept safe!" Captain Francisco Ayala argued. "The secret to getting us out of here might be on it!"

"I agree," Captain Sarah Chang, a short Asian woman in her thirties said. "If we don't find out what's on Halo, we'll be stuck here forever."

"What if those parasites attack us again?" a Republic officer inquired, standing up from his seat. "We'll lose more and more lives!"

Arguments became louder and more ferocious, spittle flying from adult men and women's mouths. Renfield saw a Republic captain squaring off against the bulk of an enormous Elite who had sided with Ayala. The bald man pushed the alien back, earning a harsh growl from the Shipmaster. Renfield decided that this had gone too far.

"SILENCE!" yelled someone before Renfield could give an order.

Everyone shut their mouths, staring at Thel Vadam. Thel huffed and leaned back against the wall. The others calmed down, a little ashamed of their antics. Renfield adjusted his collar and raised both arms.

"Please, everyone. We're acting like a rabble of dogs here! Let's talk this out like respectable men, women, and Sangheili."

"First of all, I agree with Ayala. We cannot destroy the Halo ring."

Some of the Republic captains, including Yularen, began to object.

"Calm! Please, calm down," Renfield implored. "We need to find out what's on that ring, or we will not be able to leave."

"Exactly my point." Ayala said.

The room was silent. Yularen finally sighed, coming up to stand next to Renfield by the star map. He carefully surveyed the fleet gathered around the mysterious, alien structure.

"I agree."

Everyone let out a shared sigh of relief. The previous fight had been nasty, and no one wanted to relive that experience.

"However, if landing troops on the ring is the only alternative, then we should send the best of the best. Soldiers who will not waste other lives or their own."

Renfield smiled.

"I know just the ones."

**0210** **hours, September 17, 2575 (Military Calendar)\ Wild Space, above Halo ring**

"Here's the objective!" Vince stated over the roar of the Pelican's engine. "A five-story Forerunner facility called the Control Room, according to analyses of our AIs. We're to drop in, eliminate all enemy forces, and secure an LZ for additional troops to land. Am I clear?"

Gathered around him were his fellow Spartans, all primed and ready for the mission. The Pelican shuddered once as it entered the ring's atmosphere.

"Crystal," remarked Reese.

"Good! As of now, sixty other Special Forces soldiers will be accompanying us, CAS and Republic alike. They are each respective government's best of the best. I was even told that some are psychics."

Xavier snorted into the COM.

"Like that'll help."

"Whoever we get," Vince said, giving Xavier a pointed look, "We will work with to the best of our abilities."

The pilot's voice crackled through the speakers.

"LZ coming up. ETA two minutes." he said.

"Can you spot any Flood in the area?" Vince asked.

There was a lengthy silence as the pilot scanned the snowy terrain.

"Negative. There's a huge building, though. Thousands of the bastards could be hiding in there."

The Spartans processed that as the Pelican slowed it's descent, landing on a snow-packed cliff top directly in front of the dark monolith that was the Control Room.

The aft hatch opened with a clank, and the Spartans poured out, weapons ready. Vince aimed down the scope of his shotgun, scanning the area.

"Paul, take two and scout out the LZ. Make sure none of the Flood are hiding near here."

Paul nodded and took Raj and Courtney to scout.

That left Vince, Reese, Xavier, and Carl to guard the LZ as the Pelican lifted off for pick-up of more troops. These were the times when Vince actually missed the steady guidance of Harold. But no, he was on the _Conquistador _helping the skipper with the present situation. Paul's voice spoke to him through TEAMCOM.

"We're all clear. LZ secure. Do we head to the CR, yet?"

"Negative. We wait for additional support. They're sending us tanks, I heard."

"Tanks?" Carl exclaimed. "Man, they're giving everything they've got in this one."

"Let's hope it's enough." Raj said, in the same monotone voice and pessimistic manner he always had.

"Lighten up, Raj," Xavier said, reclining against an icy boulder jutting from the cliff top. "Look, there's more transports."

Sure enough, two dropships, CAS and Republic, flew into view. They appeared, bursting out of the misty fog above. They landed, fitting just right on the cliff. Vince saw Spec Ops Elites leap out of the Phantom. He spied the familiar figure of Zor' Mawasari.

The Republic dropship was strange. The nose jutted out from the body of the ship, cockpit nestled in between the hangar and the front. Thin, metal wings were attached to the side of the ship. Turetts were mounted onto the nose.

White-armored soldiers, with red and blue markings on their gloves and left pauldrons, climbed out of the dropship. T-shaped visors were all looking at the direction of Vince, and he felt a small tug of apprehension as one of them walked up to him.

Then the clone raised a hand in greeting, and the feeling was gone.

"Lieutenant Vincent?" the clone said, voice muffled by the speakers in the helmet.

"Yes. Can I help you?" he said.

"I'd like to personally thank you for rescuing our brothers on the _Starstreak_. We never really had much hope in the beginning, but you guys came just in time. You may not recognize me, but I'm Captain Rex. Dig is with us, he's coming to thank you now."

Vince saw the ARC trooper jogging over to them, boots making deep footprints in the snow.

"Thanks for saving my life, Vince. I'll make sure to repay the debt."

Vince felt slightly ackward, not knowing what to do in a conversation like this. Usually, when he saved a fellow Spartan, they would give a thankful nod and resume fighting. There was an unspoken promise that whatever the cost, he/she would return the favor. Vince managed to nod and shake both their hands.

"I appreciate it, troopers."

Vince felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Reese.

"I contacted Command. They want us to move out and enter the Control Room. We're to leave some men to guard the LZ."

"Then let's get right to it," Vince replied.

"Xavier, Courtney, you will stay here and guard the landing zone. All the rest of the Spartans, you're with me."

As they stealthily moved down the cliff, he could see several of the other elite soldiers sorting themselves. Soon, they were joined by Zor and seven other Elites and Rex and nine ARCs, including Dig.

"It is good to see you again, comrade." rumbled Zor. "I did not think you would survive the infested ship."

"Really? That hurts Zor," he whispered back.

"Sarcasm," Zor chuckled. "One of the things I enjoy about humanity."

The team stopped as they came to a vast expanse of snow, occasionaly dotted with boulders and a few weathered trees. A small creek ran through the center, but it was frozen.

"Looks like we're going to have to cross it, people." Vince remarked as he tentatively started to run across the field.

"These are the times when I really wish we had a Warthog." Paul complained as he sprinted alongside Vince.

"And tanks. I really enjoy tanks." Carl commented.

In their advanced MJOLNIR armor, the Spartans easily outran the others. The clones were last as they reached the bottom entrance to the Control Room.

"Kriff, you guys are fast," Rex huffed, breathing deeply. "We tried at least tying with you, but you sped by like a speeder."

"Well, instead of trying to race us, you should save your stamina for the upcoming battle." Raj said, colder than the snow that fell to the ground.

Rex stared at the tall Spartan in the Mark-VI armr, then nodded slowly.

"Yeah. You're right. My apologies, my men get fired up whenever there's a challenge in front of us."

Raj seemed to soften a bit, giving an understanding nod.

"We feel like that too, sometimes. But whenever something major like this comes up, time for fun and games are over."

"Enough chit-chat." Vince said as the door to the Control Room slid open.

They filed in, entering the warm building. Strange glyphs floated around them, emerging from unseen conduits and organizing themselves into mathematical equations that not even the most intelligent of AIs could fully decipher. They moved down the corridor, boots clanking on the hard floor. The silence was deafening as they walked, passing more and more rooms. The slow ascent to the upper level was maddening to the Spartans, who were used to the commotion of battle.

"How long do you think this will-" Reese began, but just then, an elevator door opened to their right. A small ding sounded. Vince stared at the door in suspicion.

"Did anyone go near that door?" he asked

There was a chorus of "no's", and Vince rubbed the muzzle of his M45 thoughtfully.

Zor and his comrades calmy entered the spacious elevator, gesturing to the others to join.

"If it is safe, then it is safe. This will probably help us get to the upper levels quicker.

They entered, then the elevator shuddered as it began it's ascent.

_Unknown contact_.

His HUD flashed red, and he spun around, searching for the source. There was a flash of yellow, then it was gone.

_Was that a tentacle?_

"What was it, Vince?" Paul asked.

He turned to see the others looking at him.

"Unknown contact. I suggest we quit being relaxed and load up. I have a feeling we're in for a lot of trouble."

The elevator stopped, and they exited to enter a huge cavern, a holographic representation of the Halo ring floating in the center. A long obelisk protruded from the deep hole, coming up to protrude directly in the middle of the ring. A control panel stood directly in front of it, at the end of the metal walkway leading up to the center.

But that wasn't the thing that everyone stared at.

Moldy flesh seemed to cover every inch of the walls, leading up to the ceiling above and down to the unseen floor below. Enormous tentacles sprouted from the fissure, squirming in the air like dandelions. A gigantic head resembling a Venus flytrap emerged from the wall of yellow flesh, breathing a warm exhale of golden spores.

_"Who dares enters the domain of my power?"_

"What are you?" Rex breathed, disgust lacing his words.

_"I? I am the monument to all your sins, the pinnacle of power that extended far beyond the reaches of the Forerunners. I am Gravemind."_

"Where is the Monitor? And the Sentinels?" Vince demanded, raising his shotgun.

_"The chattering _ancilla_? I have corrupted it long ago, bringing its feeble presence into my embrace. The mechanical contructs I now control. Come, enter the folds of my existence and join me as I conquer this new realm."_

"Like hell!" Paul yelled, bringing his assault rifle to his shoulder. Vince grabbed his shoulder, urging him to stop. The lieutenant turned to the Gravemind once more.

"Why are you here? What is the purpose of this installation?"

_"To contain us, just like all the other accursed rings your forefathers feared our existence, and chose to bar us from our food source in order to stop our march to eternity. The Forerunners came into this galaxy millenia ago, encountering another race of high power. They agreed to construct another ring here, in the edges of known space, to contain us and act as a gateway to the other realm."_

"Are you saying that if we activate this ring, the way to the other galaxy will be opened?" Vince inquired.

_"Yes. Yeeeesss. The ring was not made to obliterate all life like the others were. No, it was made as the sister door to the other Gate World."_

"Why?" Zor spoke up, confronting the Gravemind. "Why connect the two?"

_"TO DESTROY US! The Forerunners knew that only the combined force of two galaxies could finally end my reign. They succeeded in ending the threat in the Orion Arm, but I managed to overtake this facility, combining the Monitor's essence into my own. For eons I waited, biding my time. Finally, you came. You came with your fleet of hundreds. I decided to test your capabilities, and I was surprised at how bravely you fought. You decimated my invasion party, ending the small threat. Now, however, you have come to me..."_

A deep, booming paugh erupted from the Gravemind's mouth, sending an unvoluntary shill down Vince's spine. The team shifted, weapons aimed at the giant Flood form.

_"There's no use in resisting, my brave soldiers. Come, join my embrace. Become the force that is the Flood."_

"Never! The Sangheili will never willingly be assimilated into your parasitic horde!" Zor cried, shaking a clenched fist.

Several booms sounded, followed by the harsh chattering of gunfire and the whine of plasma.

_"Your friends attempt to rescue you, but I already have you surrounded. Don't fight me. BECOME ME."_

Before the great tentacles of the Gravemind could fully wrap themselves around the company, the doors burst open. The familiar visages of General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker looked at the spectacle in confusion.

"Anakin!" hollered Kenobi, whose cheeks shone with perspiration, "Cut them loose!"

Regaining his momentum, Anakin rushed. He brought down his blue lightsaber on the tentacle that covered Vince.

The Gravemind roared as more of it's limbs were severed by the quick Jedi. Soon, they were all released.

"Hurry! We do not have much time!" Anakin cried.

They followed the two Jedi generals out of the door. Flood forms were scattered throughout the floor, bodies still burning from plasma scores. Two weary clone troopers saluted Anakin. A female Togrutan wearing a tan tank-top and shorts waved at Anakin with a green lightsaber.

"Hurry, master!"

"Coming, Snips." he breathed.

He stopped, pointing at the Togrutan.

"Guys, this is Ahsoka Tano, my padawan. Ahsoka, meet Lieutenant Vince and co."

"Nice to meet you!" Ahsoka exclaimed, giving a toothy grin despite the grim situation.

"There is no time for idle chatter. We must hurry!" Obi-Wan demanded.

The Control Room chamber rumbled, and the first of the Gravemind's tentacles poked into the adjacent corridor.

"Go, Go, GO!" Vince ordered.

They entered the elevator, laying down suppressing fire at a few Combat Forms that had managed to reach the top.

The door closed, and the elevator began its descent. After a few moments, however, it shook, bringing the group on their knees.

"What happ-" one of the clone troopers started.

A tentacle burst from an open gap in the electronic cables and snatched the clone from where he stood. The clone gave a final scream and was dragged into the hole. The other clone fired into the gap, but stopped when he knew it was futile. The trooper cursed.

Another tentacle flashed by and pulled the screaming clone into the Gravemind's embrace. The hideous Flood mastermind chuckled, its booming laughter resonating from within the Control Room.

_"Where can you hide now, puny mortals?"_

"Leave us alone, creeper!" Ahsoka cried, waving her saber around.

Another tentacle shot for the young Jedi, but she sidestepped and cut the writhing limb. The Gravemind growled in pain, and the elevator resumed working. It stopped, and the door opened.

A being that was once an Elite stumbled into the room, waving it's moldy limbs around in an attempt to strike out. The group mowed down the Infected Form without remorse and stepped out.

Dozens of bodies were sprawled across the blood-stained ground. Vince carefully stepped over a beheaded clone trooper and moved down the hall. They finally made it out of the Control Room and into the snow.

Flood Forms were charging across the ruined battlefield in an attempt to override the defenses. Tanks and stationary turrets were positioned at the far side of the valley, firing nonstop at the oncoming horde. Although the defense was great, the Flood were getting closer and closer.

"Where's the LAAT?" Anakin questioned out loud.

"There," Ahsoka answered, voice sad.

Said Republic dropship was a burning wreck, releasing a thick trail of smoke into the cold air. A pair of clone pilots lay on the ground, blood pooling from their numerous wounds.

"Well, there goes our transport," Carl remarked.

Vince noticed with grim clarity that he and his team had to move _with _the Flood horde in order to get to the pick-up zone. He didn't have a radio with him, so he couldn't request for a pick-up. Even that was a long-shot considering the thousands of Flood in the area.

"Alright, team. We're going to make a run for it!" he yelled.

"1,2,3...Go!"

The group raced across the battlefield, avoiding Flood along the way. A smoldering ball of plasma mortar rose into the air and crashed to the ground beside them. Vince's shields flickered, but he pressed on. A Tank Form took a wide swap at them, but Vince's shotgun ended it. A pair of Warthogs drove up to them and braked, mounted chainguns taking out any pursuing Flood.

"GO! We've got you covered!" the passenger said, assault rifle chattering away.

The group gave one final sprint and merged into the defenses. The defending troops had set up barricades made out of titanium sheets recovered from destroyed battleships. A Marine in a white parka and goggles jogged up to them.

"Glad to see you, Vince. Almost thought you weren't going to make that run."

"Sergeant Holloway," Vince said, recognizing the voice.

"The one and only," the rowdy Marine replied. "Captain let me join the fight, probably in the hopes of me dying."

"I should go back in there," Vince said, already moving to the battlefield.

"Rest for now, son. We got more than enough firepower to hold off those slimy bastards."

Vince saluted.

"Yes, sir."

He walked across the battlefield headquarters. Tents were being set up for medical treatment, and personnel of all three governments rushed to the wounded.

Although he didn't let it show, Vince was grateful for the temporary rest.

_"ROOOOOAAAAH!"_

The cry of the Gravemind awoke Vince from his daydreaming. He hefted his shotgun and raced to the front lines. He passed a duo of Scorpion tanks and looked across the battlefield.

Apparently, the Gravemind had decided to join the fight.

Massive tentacles the size of autobuses slammed into the barricades, knocking defenders off their feet. The Flood horde renewed their charge and rushed the line. Vince manned a Shade and started shooting the Gravemind. One of the shots hit its enormous head, angering the Gravemind even further.

_"FOOLS! YOU WILL NOT SUCCEED!"_

Vince saw one of the Republic walkers, a gigantic metal box with six legs, fire its turret at the Flood's master. A tentacle sprouted from the snow and gutted the machine from bottom to top. The Gravemind chuckled and turned its head towards Vince and his turret.

_"You see, Reclaimer? Your defenses proved naught against my forces. It is all inevitable. Just give up..."_

Vince was silent.

A tentacle reached for the Spartan.

He pointed up.

"Think again." he said.

Five Cutlass-class interceptors dove from the cloudy sky and strafed the Gravemind, bombs colliding against its enormous body. It roared in pain, shaking its plant-like frame to and fro. Three Banshees followed the UNSC fighters and released their green missiles. They impacted, sending the Gravemind to the ground. Vince unmanned the turret and walked calmly to the fallen Flood final-form. The once moldy-green skin was charred and burning, smoke rising from its wounds. It breathed laboriously, spores emmiting weakly from its mouth.

_"You...you...fools...I will...not...LOSE!"_

It roared weakly, struggling to rise. Vince put a round into its head with his sidearm.

The Gravemind screamed, tentacles cradling its mangled forehead.

"Yes, you will. Everything you have ever done, all the years you waited to overtake the galaxy again, has been in vain."

The Gravemind growled, but everyone could tell its strength was waning.

"Your time is over, Gravemind. The age of the Flood has ended. A new era will begin. An era that will live prosperously without the scourge of the parasite. Peace."

The Gravemind began to shake. Vince raised an eyebrow behind his gold-plated visor. After a few tense moments, he realized it was laughing. Its laughter intensified, seemingly reaching to the precipitating sky above.

_"Peace...Peace,"_ It repeated, chuckling. _"There will never be peace. I say this to you, puny Reclaimer, more death and destruction will come to you when I succumb to oblivion. Your kind will experience a war unlike anything you have ever seen. Billions will lose their lives, and you talk of peace. Ha!"_

The being coughed, sending a glob of mucus into the snowy ground.

_"Goodbye, human. Enjoy the coming storm..."_

The Gravemind shuddered once, then became still.

Vince absorbed the almost prophetic words the Gravemind had spoken. _A war unlike anything you have ever seen_. Vince lifted his head to the sky, ignoring the sounds of gunfire as the defenders wiped out the Flood remnant. The clouds roiled, lightning sparking the heavens with revealing light. The silhouette of a UNSC frigate flashed into view, then was gone. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw the short figure of Xavier beside him.

"You okay, Vince? I called you five times." his friend stated.

"I'm fine," Vince said, shrugging off the hand. "Let's go."

The two Spartans walked towards the formerly besieged camp, unaware of the troubles to come...

**1300 hours, September 18, 2575 (Military Calendar)\ Sector 00 (present designation), UNSC **_**Landschneckt**_**, in orbit above Republic-controlled Halo**

Captain Renfield sighed, leaning across the brass railing along the Bridge.

After a day of recuperation and recovery, the way back home was finally secure. When the Battle of the Control Room was over, he had sent Siegfried and Manuel, the only third-generation AIs in the fleet, to seek a way to activate the Gate. It took only thirty minutes for the combined force of the intelligent constructs to decipher the countless procedures and activate the ring. He remembered the silence after the AIs told them it was done over the COM.

Then the center of the ring erupted in a silver light, and the fleet was temporarily blinded. When the lightshow was done, a marvelous spectacle awaited them.

A huge Slipspace portal had activated, covering the expanse of space in the center of the Halo construct.

Siegfried had told them that the reason why the _Conquistador_ and the 117th Fleet hadn't immediately jumped to Halo was because the Gravemind had tampered with the controls. Now that the Flood was defeated, their forces had died the moment Gravemind did, the link between the two worlds connected properly, and the "gulfstream of inter-dimensional travel" was secure.

Now, they were ready to return.

"Sir."

Renfield turned, seeing one of his crewmen standing at attention.

"What is it, Rooley?"

"_Resolute _is hailing us, captain."

"Patch them through."

The immaculate figure of Admiral Wulff Yularen bowed politely at Renfield on the holographic panel usually reserved for Siegfried. The American saluted back, happy to see his newfound comrade.

"You are ready to leave, then?" Yularen asked, Coruscanti accent crisp.

"Yes, we are. I'd like to thank you for the enormous amount to hospitality you gave us, even when the majority of the douchebag Senate hated us."

"You are most welcome," he replied, but then furrowed his brow at the mention of the Senate. "What is a 'douchebag'?"

"Its a term of great respect in our galaxy," Renfield answered, biting back a smile. "Just don't ask any of my crewmen. They'll take it the wrong way."

Yularen, still confused, merely nodded.

"Well, it seems it is my turn. I thank _you_, Captain Lou Renfield, for the support of my troops during the past battles. My clones are most thankful for your actions, although mostly directed towards the Spartans. It seems they look up to your super-soldiers almost like 'big brothers' if you will."

Renfield chuckled.

"I can imagine that. Anyways, how are the Jedi?"

"They're fine. A bit disturbed, but fine. Master Kenobi is still indignant with me, but it will soon pass. The Jedi do not hold grudges."

"Well, goodbye. It will not be the last time I see you, but I wish you luck."

"Farewell."

The connection cut, and Yularen's form fizzled out.

"Siegfried, send a fleet-wide transmission that we are to leave immediately."

"Aye, skipper." the AI said in his Slavic-accent.

Renfield gratefully drank his mug of coffee, thankful it was all over.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_We are leaving in approximately three minutes. Prepare for immediate Slipspace transition."_

Ayala groaned, stretching his tired bones. The bridge crew erupted into cheers, high-fiving each other for making it through the journey. He smiled, congratulating himself for pulling the ship to safety, and ultimately, back to their past month had been hell. First contact with a new, technologically superior government, taking care of infuriating crewmen and negotiating with a hard-to-please Senate, and combating the Flood.

He closed his eyes, dreaming about New Barcelona and his family as the UNSC/CAS fleet was pulled into the Non-Euclidean realm.

And heading home.

**AN: Thanks for reading. I should have the chapters up by Thursday, so the wait won't be that long. There will be a timeline and a battle on a planet (as to which planet, you'll find out). Please R&R! :)**


	10. Holloway's Peril

**AN: So, Part II of HaloSWEndwar begins. The previous chapters were fun to write, but they were underdeveloped in my opinion. My fault, sorry. I intend to make these **_**much **_**better.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Halo or Star Wars, those right belong to Bungie (or 343 Industries) and LucasArts. Any character or objects not included in each company's respective sagas are mine. All the rest are theirs.**_

TIMELINE

**September 19, 2575: **The detachment of the 117th Fleet and _Fleet of Righteous Indignation_, along with the exploration cruiser _Conquistador_, arrives at the Gate World (Sector 01).

**September 25, 2575: **A Republic emissary by the name of Senator Padmé Amidala makes the first steps on UNSC-controlled ground. There is a formal reception held at the UNSC High Command in Sydney, Australia for the ambassadors. Although the illustrious display of fanfare and celebration, there are mixed responses from the citizens of Earth and her colonies. Some show severe aggression towards the newcomers, especially a one Governor Challis, a suspected informer for the Insurrectionists.

**October 13, 2575: **A Spartan-IV team led by Lieutenant Vincent-123 aid GAR clone troopers, stopping an attempted hijacking of a Republic-owned luxury cruiser. The Spartans are commended for their assistance. Chancellor Palpatine grows a sudden interest in the SPARTAN project, a feeling immediately noted by ONI. ONI begins to start a file on the mysterious Chancellor, and is classified as top-secret.

**October 29, 2575:** UNSC establishes an embassy on Coruscant, near the Senate Building.

**November 16, 2575:** Sector 01 is made a joint UNSC/CAS base, marking the first direct political and military link between the two governments.

**December 3, 2575:** Sector 00 is established as a Republic military and naval stronghold.

**December 24, 2575-December 25, 2576:** Separatist forces launch a surprise attack on Kashyyyk, driving Republic ground troops off the planet. The Separatists gain a strategic foothold, a foothold the Republic is eager to retake. They call on the UNSC and Confederation of Allied Species for help. Accepting, Second Fleet is assembled on a newly-terraformed Reach. Jumping to Republic territory via Sector 01, they join with Republic forces and move on Kashyyyk. After handily defeating the severely outnumbered and outgunned Separatist defense fleet, they sent ground forces to retake the coastal city of Kachirho. At first, the soldiers fail to secure the beachhead after hours of heavy fighting, but the timely arrival of the Fleet of Zealous Amercement ends the Separatist presence on Kashyyyk. The battle would later be dubbed "Christmas in the Jungle" by an Army Corporal. Relationships between the three governments increase beneficially, allowing trade routes and numerous amount of tourism to form.

**January 27, 2576-February 12, 2576: **Rumors of a supposed cloning project to replicate the achievements of the Spartan-IVs surface, driving ONI to delve even deeper into the Republic security network. After interrogating a Republic Intelligence agent, they learn that the Chancellor had green lighted a scientific and military endeavor codenamed FIST. FIST was to try to replicate UNSC personal shielding technology and genetic enhancements. The newly promoted head of ONI, Fleet Admiral Eckhardt Nagel, decides to leave it alone, and instead solve the mystery of Chancellor Palpatine. They learn that Palpatine was rumored to be involved with the former Chancellor's death.

**March 14, 2576:** UNSC declares war on the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

**March 16, 2576:** The Confederation of Allied Species declares war on the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

**April 18, 2576:** The UNSC Prowler _Tybalt_ intercepts coded transmission between the base at Mustafar and a CIS frigate. An attack on Geonosis is deciphered, and Republic forces mobilize near the Arkanis sector. Second Fleet, under the command of a freshly promoted Admiral Lou Renfield, goes to the Republic's defense.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**0300 hours, April 19, 2576, (Military Calendar) / Geonosis System, Geonosis Theater of Operations**

"Drive!" First Sergeant Holloway hollered amidst the roar of the Warthog's engines. "Want to die in the sand, trooper?"

"No, sir! No kriffing way!" the clone private behind the wheel answered shakily in return.

The Warthog produced a dense trail of smoke exhaust and gravel as it raced through the red sands of Geonosis. Massive, blocky hills covered them from the sides, forcing them into a narrow canyon. Holloway thought he saw movement in the hills to their left; he fired a sustained burst from his MA5B. The bullets blew bits of rock off the edge of the cliff, and there was a flash of green and red as whatever was hiding there retreated.

"Zee!" he called to the clone manning the 50mm chaingun. "Shoot those buggers near the top of the hills!"

When he received no answer, he turned, slightly irked.

He found the trooper slumped against the gun, a large plasma wound on his side. The super-heated energy had melted through his armor, cooking the skin underneath. _Damnit, Zee_, Holloway cursed in his head. The kid must have taken the hit back when they were fleeing the ambush. _Poor guy never said a word_. He gently placed the brave soldier against the side railing. He came back over to the passenger seat.

"Zee's dead." he said plainly, emptying his magazine and reloading.

The trooper, who had chosen not to go by a name, merely nodded.

Holloway pressed a few buttons on the console, static crunching as the radio struggled to connect to the headquarters. The Warthog continued to race through the seemingly never-ending canyon, dust cloud emitting from behind. Holloway growled in frustration as the vehicle bumped crazily.

"Try to go smoothly, private. Don't want the wheels to pop, do you?"

"No, sir."

A bolt of green energy emerged from the cliff tops, striking the ground near the UNSC car. It shook, causing Holloway to look up in annoyance.

Three of the skinny, insectoid Geonosians stood on the top of the canyon, hefting glowing sonic blasters. Their brown, mottled skin blended in with the rock color, giving them a perfect advantage. Holloway screamed in defiance and fired a continuous stream of bullets at the trio of CIS supporters. They backed, narrowly avoiding the hail of projectiles. At least one connected, hitting the unlucky Geonosian square in the chest. Dark blood spurted from the wound, and the alien squawked in alarm and pain.

As they retreated, Holloway turned his attention back to the comms device.

"HQ, do you copy? This is First Sergeant Holloway! We were ambushed during our scouting patrol and lost four of our men. Requesting immediate extraction. Over."

"_Negative, Sergeant. Airways are clogged with enemy craft. You need to get that Warthog into friendly territory. You will need to travel one more mile to get to Alpha HQ. Over."_

The connection cut.

"DAMN!" he roared, nearly causing the clone to brake.

"What is it, Sergeant?" he asked, T-shaped visor staring at the despairing marine.

"HQ won't help us," he related, face grim. "We'll need to drive about one mile to get into friendly zone."

"Copy that, sir." the clone said, voice tight.

He slammed down on the accelerator, speeding the vehicle up a few notches. Holloway chuckled. He had enjoyed working with the disciplined Republic soldiers ever since the Flood battle at Sector 00. Then, during the bloodshed at Kashyyyk, an ARC trooper by the name of Fives had rescued him from a downed Pelican, further deepening his respect for the troopers. Even though many of his buddies back in Alpha ridiculed the clones for what they were, he never joined in. The sounds of several sonic blasters awoke him from his daydreaming.

"Faster, private!" he yelled as the viridian orbs shook the rocky terrain beneath them. The clone gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel with iron determination. As they raced through the canyon, Holloway got up and manned the turret.

"Eat this, bastards!" he shouted.

Hundreds of armor-piercing rounds struck the cliff top, pelting several of the insect-like attackers. Holloway watched with satisfaction as he saw one crumple and fall down the steep ravine, fragile body bouncing down the cliff-sides like a mannequin. He continued firing for what seemed like hours, not caring that his ammo was depleting rapidly. All he wanted was to destroy the aliens that killed his men. He vaguely heard the voice of the driving clone over the loud chattering of the turret.

"Sir! HQ's up ahead!" he informed the enraged Sergeant.

Holloway paused, peering over the horizon. Sure enough, the familiar structures and barricade that were Alpha HQ loomed in the distance.

"Haha! We made it, trooper!" he cried, laughing in glee.

The trooper, despite years of harsh training, found himself giggling like a schoolgirl. They exited the hellish valley, coming into a vast, desert plain that was in front of HQ.

"_Sergeant! Be advised, there is an AAT to the rear of your position! Do NOT slow down!" _the worried voice of the comms worker spoke urgently.

Holloway paused his laughter in confusion, and looked behind them.

The dirty green of an Armored Assault Tank poked out from atop a cliff from the canyon they just left. The launch tubes of the mechanical menace slowly rotated towards the speeding Warthog. Holloway's mouth opened in a silent warning to the unsuspecting trooper, who was to bury laughing in celebration to notice. The tank fired, heavy anti-vehicle shells lancing out from the twin turrets.

The shells connected with a terrible boom, sending the ruined Warthog into the air. Holloway felt the sensation of flying; the dusty sky of Geonosis never seemed so near. He turned his head, ignoring the jolts of pain that coursed through his body as he did.

The clone trooper's white-clad figure lay sprawled against the ground, red blood melding into the colored sand under him.

Holloway hit the ground, air escaping his tired lungs. Through blurry vision, he could see a group of troopers rush to them, firing their DC-15s uselessly at the CIS tank. One of them crouched beside the injured sergeant.

"Are you okay, sir?" he asked, voice muffled under the helmet's mouthpiece.

Holloway groaned, feeling his life slowly leak from his ravaged body. He looked down, seeing scarlet on his old fatigues.

His hearing started to fail him, catching only a few phrases as his body was carried into the hectic HQ.

"Medic, front and center!"

"No, take him to the infirmary, ASAP!"

"First Sergeant! Hang on, okay? We'll patch you up in no time."

"Is that you, Fulton?" he whispered, feeling something fill his dry mouth and run down his lips. "Well, it's not like an ODST to miss a fight. Tell the men I'll miss 'em, will you?"

Then all was dark.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Second Lieutenant Vincent-123 watched impassively as the medics worked to revive Holloway. He was lying on a stretcher, blood pooling around his ruined figure. The doctors had told him he had broken several ribs, pierced lungs, also fracturing his right femur. Pieces of shrapnel were embedded into his stomach, and it was very messy as the skilled workers picked them out. Vince felt the need to help attend to his friend, but he did not. The sight of the MJOLNIR-encased Spartan would only agitate the medics. He sighed, giving the unconscious First Sergeant one last look, and then turned.

Alpha HQ was an assortment of rows of heavy canvas tents, control buildings, and even a hastily erected water tower. Radio towers stood like mechanical sentinels near the east edge of the camp, lending the denizens of Alpha a reliable communication link to the other bases set up around Geonosis. Although the occasional flash flood warning sent the Marines into a chaotic frenzy of panic, the atmosphere of Alpha was usually casual and relaxing. Vince strode down the passage between two rows of personnel tents, avoiding clusters of Marines who were busy playing cards or other games. He spied the familiar olive-green bulk of Xavier conversing with Paul and Reese. They were the only Spartans on Geonosis, much less the Arkanis sector. Courtney and Harold were busy stopping an Insurrectionist rising on Sigma Octanus IV, and Raj and Carl was helping the Jedi halt an invasion on Ryloth. The other Spartans Vince hadn't heard from since the maiden voyage of the _Conquistador_. He just hoped they were okay. Stepping up to his fellow Spartans, he caught a few snippets of their conversation.

"I don't know what's getting the Admiral so worked up, but it's bad enough that he's launching a full-scale assault on the Geonosian fortress." Reese said, hands folded behind his back. Covered from head-to-toe in his new orange Mark-VI armor, he was the perfect example of Spartan calm.

"I heard the Seps were building some sort of super-weapon" Paul stated, twirling his beloved combat knife in the air.

"If that's the case then, we better be prepared. The next-" Xavier stopped, sensing Vince come up beside them.

Xavier had changed dramatically in the past months. He grew slightly taller, giving a more intimidating factor. His once bright and sunny countenance still had the same spark, but it was masked with a newfound determination and cool. Beneath his armor, Vince knew he had a long scar traveling down the left side of his body, a wound received from the "Christmas in the Jungle" event. Ever since that battle, Xavier had abandoned his joking attitude and found a more disciplined and controlled behavior. The Spartans had taken this change positively, knowing it would make him more effective, but sometimes Vince missed the chipper and friendly Xavier from before.

Sometimes.

"Vince," Xavier greeted, saluting. The other two did likewise, and Vince returned the respectful gesture. "How's the sergeant doing?"

"Fine, I guess." Vince related what the medics had told him. "He's really banged up, but with the proper amount of treatment, he should be fine."

"That's good to hear," said Xavier, a little wistfully.

_No doubt he was remembering _Sleepless_,_ Vince thought, bemused,

"Captain." Paul said to someone behind Vince, saluting smartly.

The others turned and stood at attention, rigid. Captain Ayala saluted back, nodding.

"As you were, Spartans." he said, familiar Spanish accent making his words fluid and soothing. "The Admiral requests your presence on the comms link."

Captain Francisco Ayala hadn't really changed over the past year. His tanned face remained the same, although he was slightly graying at the temples. His charcoal-black eyes still fascinated the female crew, for a reason Vince was oblivious to.

Something's never change, and Vince was glad that Ayala was one of them.

Content with his position as captain, although he could easily be an Admiral, he denied any propositions of promotion. The Spaniard had been on-leave for the past few months, visiting his family in New Barcelona on the colony of Madrigal II. Vince had toured the place once: Luscious beaches, beautiful forests filled with countless kinds of flora and fauna, and the capitol, Madra, was a city to rival even the glory of Sanghelious. Ayala had been called to once again captain the _Conquistador_ for the imminent battle above Geonosis' atmosphere. Smoothing his gray uniform and self-consciously adjusting his eagle pin, he spread his arms.

"Let's go, then."

The Spartans followed Ayala down some more rows of tents. Numerous Marines stopped what they were doing to salute the captain, showing respect and admiration for the famed Spaniard who had traveled across the void and found a new civilization. A group of Marines playing basketball paused the game to wave at the captain. A little embarrassed by the praise, he waved back.

Finally, they made it to the ops center, which was placed right smack dab in the middle of the camp. It was two-storied, and the beloved insignia of the UNSC had been painted next to the wooden double-doors. Opening the door, Vince felt the temperature drop to a comforting low.

"God bless air conditioners," Ayala muttered warmly.

The main ops center was placed in a depression under a ring of elevated passageways, edged with brass railing. Steps were built beside the elevation to accommodate people wanting to walk down to the pt below. Tables carrying various types of equipment and technology were set in the pit, wires and cables streaming out from under them like black snakes. Dozens of technical personnel hurried around the center, working on things Vince had absolutely no clue about. A few marines sporting assault rifles leaned reclined around a table near a supporting pillar, relaxed. A large TV was hung at the far side of the building, and the visage of Admiral Eckhardt Nagel looked back at them.

The German Admiral was considered the main reason why the UNSC established first contact with the Republic. After all, he had spearheaded the United Exploration Organization in the first place. Although he was revered by many in the Admiralty and the public, he was humble and never took advantage of others because of his status. Well, maybe more than that. He w_as _the director of the Office of Naval Intelligence. The death of old Parangosky left the position open, and the other officials claimed Nagel was perfect for the job.

He still had those gray as flint eyes, eyes that seemed to pierce into you. His black hair was graying, from stress or age Vince didn't know. He smiled, and Vince felt the pressure of those eyes even in his armor.

Ayala and the Spartans saluted.

"At ease, men." the Fleet Admiral said, his English thick and harsh. "I assume the HQ is doing relatively well?"

"Perfect, sir. The Separatists wouldn't dare attack us head-on." Ayala said, pride lacing his words.

The Director of ONI laughed, but the chuckling did not reach his eyes.

"That is good to hear, captain," he said. The German switched his tone from politely casual to serious. "We have important business to attend to."

The screen polarized, shifting from Nagel's face to a satellite view of a gigantic structure built on the side of a cliff.

"This is Station 13, a droid foundry and assembly plant owned by Baktoid Armor Workshop. The factory is heavily guarded and highly elevated, so the only possible ways to get there are through the Geonosian hives below, or the landing pads above. Station 13 is a major foundry to the Confederacy, mainly because of its high production rate and value. In addition, it presently contains the super-weapon plans being ferried periodically between Separatist strongholds. Our objective is to capture the facility, retrieve the plans, and effectively destroy it on the way out. Am I clear?"

The Spartans nodded dutifully; it seemed like their kind of job.

"Of course, you will receive large amounts of support in the form of the 501st Legion, the 105th ODST Battalion, and many others. The attack will commence tomorrow at 0100."

With that said, the connection cut.

Ayala clapped his hands in agreement and turned to the Spartans.

"You may return to your quarters to relax outside. Tomorrow is going to be a big day."

The Spartans saluted and left the building.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Holloway was floating in a vacuum.

His memories drifted in and out, and whenever he tried to reach out to them, they dissipated in his grip, vanishing like mist. Pain coursed through his mind, but he could do nothing about it. The image of his old friend and role model, Corporal Locklear, swam into his vision and disappeared.

Holloway smiled tightly at that. He remembered being a scrawny teenager in Austin, high-fiving Locklear when he went on leave. He had looked up to the ODST, and had been devastated when he heard about his death after the first Halo ring. Locklear, who was his brother-in-law, had been the main reason he joined the cause.

He felt a presence poke into his mind.

_"Hurry, my friend." _it said, speaking in a soft voice that was neither male nor female. _"Heal quickly, for the storm will arrive soon. Your allies will need your help, warrior. The Force shall be with you, young one..."_

As soon as it appeared, it left. A burst of white light flashed in his vision.

First Sergeant Holloway woke up, gasping. A group of anxious-looking medics were clustered around him, one of them holding an electric resuscitator in his shaking hands. Holloway inhaled and exhaled, looking around. He felt a surge of pain erupt in his chest, and he fell back down on the bed. The medics recovered from their surprise and attended to him.

"What happened?" the Marine groaned.

"You flatlined, sir. We had to revive you," the man with the electric device said, placing it down on a bloodstained tool tray.

Holloway wondered why they were treating him, and it came back in a flash: the dangerous drive through the canyon, the excitement he felt when Alpha HQ came up in the horizon, and the cheerful laugh of the faithful clone trooper. Then the tank fired, and the Warthog flipped in the air. He remembered seeing the clone's body on the ground. Holloway cursed under his breath.

_How many more good men had to die?_

**AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please R&R! **


	11. Station 13

**AN: Ah, summer. The recession from the chaos of academics and stress adored by students all over the globe. I hope that I will be able to update more often. Anyways, here is the latest installment in the HaloSWEndwar saga. Thanks for all the positive reviews, guys! I appreciate it.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Halo or Star Wars. Those rights belong to Bungie (343 Industries) and Lucas Arts. Any character(s) or object(s) not included or mentioned in each company's respective sagas are mine. All the rest are theirs.**_

**0100 hours, April 20, 2576, (Military Calendar) \ Arkanis Sector, Geonosis System, Geonosis Theater of Operations, Alpha HQ**

Lieutenant Vincent-123 fingered the muzzle of his treasured M45, calmly surveying the endless sea of desert before him. The UH-144 Falcon suddenly swerved to the right, disrupting the Spartan-IV from his reverie. Four Republic commandoes, called a "pod", were seated in the Falcon, silent and stoic as ever. Their tarnished, Katarn-class armor contrasted greatly from Vince's own blue MJOLNIR Mark-VI, technologically and in design. One ARC by the nickname of Dig, who was a newfound friend, sat by the Spartan. The Alpha-ARC shouldered him gently.

"Something bugging you, lieutenant?" he asked, voice crackled from the helmet's mouthpiece.

"Nothing, its nothing." he reassured the Special Forces clone trooper.

In fact, something _was _bothering the MJOLNIR-clad Spartan. Ever since the deployment from Alpha HQ, an inescapable feeling of dread had enveloped his chest. Not much could scare a Spartan, but Vince had a nagging notion that something was awaiting them.

Something bad.

"This is Echo 318; we are on approach to objective. ETA three minutes. Over."

"Copy that, 318. 513 is tailing fast. Over."

The conversation between the lead pilot and his told him all he needed to know.

"Station 13's coming up, boys," he called to his team, "Let's lock and load!"

The commandos nodded simultaneously, their seemingly robotic movements echoing that of Vince's own brethren. One of them retrieved a black case from the cargo hold and opened it with a click. He withdrew a dark-black blaster cannon from the box then slung it over his broad shoulders. Vince admired the weapon as the clone slowly rubbed an oil rag over its metallic surface. He had seen the Z-6 in action many times in the past, and he had like it even more than the UNSC's own, similar guns. The cannon could mow down more enemies than the LAAG. Vince turned away and looked back down the side opening.

Station 13 was a massive hulk of a droid foundry built into the side of a large canyon. Several long, black pipes rose from the top of the foreboding structure, emitting streams of sulfurous smoke into the already much-abused air. There was three main building sections, each adjacent to each other. A thin stretch of light metal projected from the side of one of the buildings, ending in a circular pad criss-crossed with landing markers.

"There's the DZ," he pointed out. "Our troops on the ground will be busy infiltrating through the hives below; our job is to clear a path for more soldiers to file in. Once we have sufficient numbers, we are to eliminate as many hostiles as we can and retrieve the plans for the super-weapon. When that's over, the demolition guys will set up the bomb and we hightail it out of here. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." They addressed the Second Lieutenant.

"Good. Now get ready, looks like we have some unfriendly company," he said.

Five Geonosian sentries were sprinting along the metal pathway, wings buzzing in an attempt to fly. One of them succeeded, winging his way towards the Falcon. _Stupid move_, Vince thought. What was a lone Geonosian guard going to do against a Falcon, much less seven other Republic transports and two Pelicans. Then the guard took a familiar blue orb from his hip harness and lobbed it at the Falcon.

Plasma grenade?

How had a plasma grenade found its way to a remote droid foundry on Geonosis? Vince saved that thought for later; right now, his team was under the threat of being blown off the transport.

The Falcon swerved in an attempt to dodge the sticky explosive. The pilot succeeded, avoiding the crackling grenade. It detonated halfway down the ground.

The pilot cursed and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the Geonosian. The insectoid flailed, and what was left of it fell to the red sands below. The other guards, seeing that their plucky friend had failed, backpedaled back to the main entrance, firing their sonic blasters on the way.

The Falcon positioned itself nose-front towards the Geonosians and fired its machine guns. The guards fell under the barrage. The helicopter moved to side, allowing her troops to land. Vince felt his boots hit the metallic landing pad, then waved for the Falcon to leave. The sunglass-bearing pilot saluted and rose into the sky, back to Alpha.

Dig and the pod of commandos gathered around him, looking for guidance.

"We move now," he stated. "Hopefully, not everyone was alerted by the gunfire, so we should be okay for the time being. Dig, you take point."

The ARC nodded and lead the way, DC-15 held at ready position. The others followed, careful to check the front wall for any sign of hostile movement.

The main door was already open wide, letting the Spartan and his team in.

They entered into a dimly lit corridor, overhead lights blinking slowly, then they shut altogether. An acrid stench filled through Vince's filters. The commandos and Dig put on their night vision goggles, the bulky eyepieces covering up their blue visors. Already possessing the ability to see in the dark, Vince didn't bother.

Their feet clacked noisily off the holed metal path, and Vince thought he heard the sounds of throaty clicking. The lights turned on, and Vince discovered that there were pockets of space made in rows along the walls of the hallway, all carrying clusters of angry Geonosian soldiers.

"Open fire!" he ordered without hesitation.

Vince brought up his shotgun and blasted an unlucky sentry a few yards back, his entrails trailing loosely after him. The clones fired, bringing down more of the, fortunately, unarmed aliens. Vince saw three of the Geonosians running towards a side hatch cut into the organic walls. They opened it and withdrew several sonic blasters.

Vince chucked a fragmentation grenade at the trio. The explosion and shrapnel ripped them apart. The other aliens, seeing the armory, rushed to it. The elite soldiers mowed them down without remorse, but a few of them were able to reach it. Vince felt a sonic blast hit him in the chest. His shields flared, and his shield bar whittled down an inch. Suddenly, an alarm blared somewhere inside the foundry. Dispatching the alien that had shot him, he raised a gloved hand to his helmet.

"Enemy contact, I repeat, enemy contact. Our position has been neutralized."

"_Affirmative. Attack group is heading towards the station. Over._" Ayala said from Command.

The number of enemies lessened to a few, and Vince and the others cut them down. Dozens of Geonosian corpses littered the corridor, steam rising from their wounds. Vince walked over to the door and pressed a panel. The entryway opened.

The main factory was a huge cavern filled with mechanical gadgets and devices, all assembling together to create battle droids. An orange light blanketed the room, and Vince could feel the heat waft through his filters. Vince ducked as a huge crane revolved near his head, carrying a vat of boiling lava. A conveyor belt ran smoothly along the center of the factory, transporting unfinished droid parts. The lieutenant looked back and nodded at the clones behind him.

He took a few steps back and leapt onto the conveyor. The structure rumbled as he landed, but the Spartan steadied himself. He found himself moving forward as the belt carried him further along the factory. The rest of the clones jumped, and they managed to land right behind him. Vince pointed to an open ledge to their bottom right.

"According to the schematics the spooks procured, that door should lead down to the Control Room. We'll shut down the droid production factory then find the plans."

Vince jumped again, landing squarely on the metal ledge. Once the team was all there, he opened the door.

And almost collided against a Super Battle Droid.

He raised his M45 and blasted the thing before it could shoot. The Spartan kicked the remains off the platform and down to the fathomless chasm of the foundry.

The corridor was dark, and the night vision went on once more. They continued to move, then a deep rumble made them pause.

"The attack must be starting," Dig commented, head raised as dust seeped from the ceiling.

"Then we have no time to waste," Vince replied. "Let's move."

They continued to make their way down the factory, ears peeled for any sounds of movement. The group made it to a door, and an inscription on the side read: Control Room.

Vince stepped back and kicked the door open.

A few Geonosians were seated at the controls, but stood up when the entrance pulled apart from the outside. Vince blew them apart, their blood splattering against the security screens. The Spartan kicked aside their corpses.

"Dig, find the location of the plans," he ordered the ARC. "It's bound to be here somewhere."

The clone dutifully sat by one of the control panels and started typing, helmet fixed onto the shifting screen. The screen polarized into the view of a security camera, and it showed a dark room, centered with a massive holoprojector. The hologram was in the shape of a revolving sphere, half-constructed to show the inside. Certain individuals were hurriedly racing across the room, being attended to by various assistants.

Judging by the list that the Republic gave the UNSC, those individuals happened to be some of the major Separatist leaders.

"Isn't that Wat Tambor?" one of the commandos pointed out.

"Apparently," Vince answered. "Look at that man sitting on that big swivel chair. Familiar to you?"

The man in question bore white hair, folded neatly back his scalp. He had imperious black eyes, and a dark black-red suit complete with a cape.

"Kriff, that's Count Dooku!" Dig exclaimed.

"There's no way we'll be able to retrieve those plans if he's there." A commando said, despairing.

"Stow it, trooper," another growled. He went by Axol, and he was the team leader of the pod. "There's always a way."

Vince ignored them and moved to the side of the room, gloved hand pressed to his helmet.

"This is Lieutenant Vincent-123. We have secured the Control Room and managed to discover the location of the plans. Unfortunately, Count Dooku is in the facility. Requesting permission to engage."

Dig began to protest, but Vince cut him off with hand gesture.

"_Negative. Wait for assistance. The Seps have cut us off in the canyon. The majority of us made it through, but some are still stuck there. We are attempting to rescue them, and at the same time, we are attacking the foundry. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT engage the Count."_

The connection cut before Vince could reply. He stifled a curse. He faced the troopers.

"Stay here. If you see any droid or Geonosian attempt to come in, shoot away. You got that?" he commanded, pumping his shotgun.

"You can't be serious-"

"I'm dead serious. Dig, you're coming with me."

Dig nodded hesitantly.

"Yes, sir."

The pair raced out of the room, leaving the commandos in a bewildered state. Dig raised his wrist and pressed a button. The schematics of the foundry erupted from his wrist device, and he turned it with his finger.

"The room where the Count is in should be down this hallway."

They sprinted down the hall, weapons ready. Five thin battle droids appeared out from the corner, guns raised. Vince and the ARC shot without hesitation, easily avoiding the droid's terrible aim. The machines crumpled, mechanical limbs breaking apart. The duo rounded the corner and came to a door guarded by two Super Battle Droids and a lone Geonosian.

"Clankers!" Dig warned, emptying a cartridge into one of the droids. The other lifted an arm, red laser splashing against Vince's shields. The Spartan grunted and lobbed a fragmentation grenade. It rebounded off the metal door and landed between the battle droid and the Geonosian. The alien let out a surprised squawk, and then smoke and shrapnel enveloped them.

Vince lifted an armored leg and kicked the door open. Dig followed with a thermal detonator into the room. The resulting explosion caused several cries of alarm and pain. Vince peered in and saw a lavishly clad Neomodian writhing in pain, half its green wrinkled body torn apart. The other leaders poured out of the room via a side hall, alien bodies scampering in fright. Vince withdrew his sidearm and shot a pale, tall, dome-headed humanoid in the legs. The "man" screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching his injured limbs. Robed assistants dragged him away, leaving a trail of blood.

"You just shot San Hill," Dig whispered in awe.

"He important?" Vince grunted, peering through the smoke for the real objective.

"Important? He's the Chairman of the Intergalactic Banking Cla-"

An invisible force promptly pulled Dig into the smoke. He let out a shocked yell then disappeared. Vince cursed and leapt into the room. When the smoke cleared, the sight of a grinning Count Dooku, lifting an impaled Dig with one hand, greeted him.

"Well, well, well," the Jedi-turned-Sith drawled darkly. "If it isn't the famous SPARTAN-IV the UNSC so proudly utilizes."

Dig choked horribly, attempting to grab the red lightsaber sticking out of his white breastplate.

Vince felt a surge of rage, but he pushed it down.

"Give me the plans and surrender, Dooku." Vince warned, M45 raised threateningly.

"I am afraid that cannot happen, Spartan." The Count replied, throwing Dig's body away. The ARC hit the wall, slumping to a bleeding heap on the floor.

"Then I'm going to have to kill you." The Spartan responded.

Dooku chuckled.

"Very funny, but I don't think-"

Vince blitzed him, finger already pulling the trigger of the shotgun. Dooku's eyes turned to slits and he sidestepped with abnormal speed, avoiding the shells. Vince swung his shotgun, intending to melee the Confederacy leader in the head. The Count ducked and slashed the air with his crimson blade. Vince managed to dodge the man's strikes, thanks to his genetic enhancements. Dooku feigned to the left, and the Spartan brought his shotgun up in an attempt to block it.

A dangerous mistake, one Vince realized too late.

Dooku cut the MJOLNIR breastplate in a diagonal arc, depleting most of Vince's shields. Then he followed with a savage slash, slicing his shotgun in halves. Dooku smirked triumphantly and Force-Pushed Vince back against the wall, earning a grunt of pain.

Dooku rushed him, lightsaber up. He brought it down, but the Spartan lifted a palm and clutched the Count's fist, stopping the strike. He stood and wrapped a hand around the stunned Sith's throat, gripping harder each time he spoke.

"You made a mistake in fighting me, Count." Vince said, voice low.

The man coughed, and saliva hit the front of Vince's visor. He smiled evilly, making Vince hesitate. Dooku lifted his arm to the Spartan's helmet and pressed his palm to the top.

"Oh really?" he rasped.

Pain like nothing Vince had ever felt erupted around his body, like waves of electricity coursing through his skin. The shields dissipated, leaving only Vince and his armor to withstand the Sith lightning that enveloped him. Dooku escaped from the Spartan's grip, hand still clutching the soldier's head.

"It's been fun, Second Lieutenant Vincent-123," Dooku chuckled. "No doubt your friends will find your and the clone's body. They'll rethink their actions the next time they find me."

Vince vaguely heard the sounds of gunfire through his pain. He felt the Count release him, and he fell to the ground. Through his HUD, he saw a familiar orange figure burst into the room, flanked by ODSTs.

"Kill the Count!" Reese ordered, firing his own MA5 at the Sith.

Dooku snarled and twisted his lightsaber in protective arcs, deflecting most of the bullets. Since lightsabers were not designed to protect against projectiles, however, some found their target.

Count Dooku howled in pain as a bullet impaled him in the shoulder, spurting red blood. Dooku charged the soldiers, crimson blade humming dangerously. An ODST screamed in pain as the former Jedi cut off his right arm. The elite soldiers scattered, but another Marine fell to his onslaught. Reese cried in anger and defiance and slammed his assault rifle on Dooku's back. The Count whirled and lunged, lightsaber knocking Reese back a few steps.

Reese dropped his weapon and tackled the taken aback Count. They hit the floor hard. Dooku wheezed for breath as the 1 ton pressure of the MJOLNIR armor pinned him to the ground. Reese drew his pistol and prepared to fire. The sidearm wobbled in the Spartan's grip, then twisted to the side. Reese was pulled into the air and down to the ground again.

Vince painfully turned his steaming head and saw a smirking Dooku striding over to the fallen Spartan. Reese attempted to rise, but before he could, streams of blue lightning burst forth from Dooku's outstretched hand.

Vince croaked out a warning, but it was futile. The lightning coalesced around Reese, depleting his shields. He writhed on the ground, biting back screams that threatened to spill from his clenched mouth. He shakily withdrew a combat knife from its sheath and threw it at the Count. Dooku laughed harshly.

The blade stopped in mid-flight, tendrils of lightning forming a web around it.

At this point, the remaining ODSTs started to fire. The bullets pinged off an invisible force-field around the Sith, dropping harmlessly to the ground. Dooku curled a lip and willed the combat knife into the air. The weapon pierced one of the Marines in the chest. The ODST fell to the floor, inert.

Vince attempted to rise, gripping his pistol in the process. Finally, he stood. Lifting his gun in the right stance, he fired. The lightsaber appeared and deflected it. Dooku grinned darkly.

Suddenly, a pair of Droidekas rolled out from the side hall and positioned themselves, blue spheres forming around them.

"Take cover!" an ODST hollered, hiding behind an overturned desk.

The destroyer droids fired, non-stop red bolts of lasers hammering against the Marines' obstructions. One soldier rose and pulled the pin off a grenade, but was quickly cut down. Vince cursed and retrieved his own grenade, waves of pain speeding through his body. He yelled and threw it at the general direction of the two droids. The explosion gave the ODST's a chance to counterattack, and they did.

One droid shattered to pieces, while the other continued to fire. Vince attempted to rise, but a polished boot slammed down onto his hand. Vince looked up and saw the gloating face of Count Dooku leering down on him. He looked in another direction and blocked bullets fired at him by the Marines. By then, the remaining droideka had been eliminated, and the five ODSTs left had changed their direction of fire. Dooku leapt into the air, red lightsaber whirling like helicopter rotors above his head. He carved apart an ODST, sending scorching limbs into the air. The soldiers smartly scattered, firing at the Count.

The Sith was too fast, however.

Dooku pounced and stabbed an ODST through the chest, then withdrew and beheaded another. The two remaining ODSTs dropped their assault rifles and drew their sidearms. Dooku avoided the pistol shots and slashed out in a horizontal sweep.

The elite soldiers fell, bodies sizzling.

Dooku inhaled deeply and released. He turned his attention to the two prone Spartans.

"These soldiers are efficient, but I have faced better. Surely you did not think that this would be enough?"

"Go to hell, Dooku." Reese seethed.

"Not today, I'm afraid." Dooku replied. "No one will help you, my friends. I have entirely devoted my defense remnant to holding off any enemies approaching this room. Unfortunately, help came in the form of your orange friend here."

Vince looked to Reese appreciatively.

Dooku extended both arms in front of him, and once again, blue lightning discharged from his wide palms.

Vince raised both arms in an X in front of him, gritting his teeth against the assault. Reese mimicked him, giving a defiant roar. Dooku glared and strengthened the attack. Vince could feel the heat intensify, yet he took a step forward.

Dooku opened his mouth, a foul cry emitting from his throat. The room lit up in a bright flash. Vince blacked out, hazily registering the feel of colliding against the wall. In his period of near-unconsciousness, he picked out a few words spoken by the sinister Count.

"_Leave the lieutenant,_" he heard Dooku order. _"Bring the orange one. Make sure he is unconscious at all times. Is my transport ready?"_

_ "Yes, my lord." _a Geonosian warbled.

After a few excruciating moments, Vince blearily opened his eyes.

A group of Geonosians and Super Battle Droids were hauling Reese through the corridor. Reese's MJOLNIR armor was practically steaming; Vince couldn't tell if he was dead or alive. He struggled to cry out in protest, but all that came out was a haggard croak.

Suddenly, the arrogant visage of Count Dooku blocked his vision. The man arched a delicate and thin white eyebrow, grinning slightly as he noticed Vince twitch.

"Still alive, are you?" he remarked. "I think I'll let you live. I will enjoy playing these games in the near future. Say hello to Skywalker and Kenobi for me."

He rose from his crouch, ink-black cape swirling behind him like liquid. Just as he stepped foot into the hallway, he turned, as if remembering something.

"Oh, yes," he said lightly. "Do say farewell to your Spartan friend. You won't be seeing him for quite some time. Goodbye, Vincent."

The Count left the torn, cluttered room. Vince dropped his head in defeat. He turned his head and saw the bleeding helmet of Dig the ARC looking back at him, accusing him of his death. Vince bit his lip.

The hours went by quickly. He distantly recalled being carried by Paul and Xavier, soot-stained medics working hastily to treat him. He remembered put in a Warthog, and the drive back to HQ. The battlefield around the foundry was destroyed. The remains of vehicles and droids littered the sands, mixed with the fallen corpses of soldiers. Vince remembered the distant boom as the demolitions team blew the factory apart.

He lay on a stretcher, armor piled onto the corner of the canvas tent. He stared blankly at the ceiling, catching brief glimpses of the dusky sky through empty spots in the tent. The flap opened, and he saw Paul and Xavier walk in, fully decked in their armor. Vince stared into the visor of the Xavier.

It had been a long time since he had looked at himself. Seeing his pale face shocked him.

Sharp features, but not too sharp to resemble a hawk. A creased forehead, sitting atop thin brown eyebrows. Domed cheeks slightly flushed from the lack of cool air. His sad gray eyes stared back at him through the reflection. He knew the look in those stone-cold eyes.

Shame.

Xavier and Paul saluted Vince. He shakily returned the gesture. Xavier approached him carefully, as if one misstep would shatter him to pieces.

"How're you doing, partner?" he asked tentatively.

"Fine…I guess." Vince answered hoarsely.

"We know about Reese," Paul added, arms crossed. Vince didn't know if it was in a condescending manner, but he assumed it wasn't.

"I failed," was all Vince said.

"Not entirely," Paul responded quickly. "We did get the plans for the super weapon. The Count was too busy playing around he apparently forgot to bring some important material with him.

_But he got something else instead._

Vince didn't let those words issue from his mouth. Partly because he didn't want to damper his comrades' spirits, and partly because he knew that was what they were all thinking.

Vince sighed and lay back on his pillow, savoring the lush softness. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

Paul and Xavier traded looks. Giving Vince one last worried glance, the pair left the tent, leaving the exhausted Spartan to his dreams.

Vince replayed the past event in his brain, constantly berating himself for his failure in defeating Dooku, saving Dig, and recuing Reese. As he thought, a tiny detail stuck out from the rest.

"_It's been fun, Second Lieutenant Vincent-123…"_

Vince's heart began to hammer inside his chest. His name was only known by close friends and higher-ranking officers. ONI wouldn't let that information slip from their grasp easily. How could this have happened?

How did Dooku know his name?

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/

Reese awoke gasping for air. He coughed furiously, hacking up droplets of blood. After a few painful seconds, he tried to register where he was.

He could tell he was lying down. Lying down on top of a freezing metal table, arms shackled at his sides. He also learned he was without his familiar MJOLNIR Mark-VI, dressed in only a threadbare hospital gown. There was a single overhead light, positioned directly above his face. His augmented eyes adjusted to the light, and he looked around groggily.

He was in a dark room, shadowed mysteriously around the edges. He twisted in his cot, attempting to use his superhuman strength to break free of his bonds.

"I am afraid that won't work, Reese." a crisp, familiar voice spoke from some unknown spot.

"Let me go, Count." Reese seethed in fury. His veins bulged from his muscular forearms as he strained to release himself.

"That will most certainly _not _be happening, my SPARTAN-IV friend." the evil voice drawled. "I need you here for the time being. You are a curious specimen, Reese. A specimen we would like to closely inspect. You see, you and your fellow Spartans are something this galaxy has never seen. Something we covet very much. You are the key to the secret of the Spartan, Reese. With your help, we can possibly replicate your genetic augmentations. What do you say? Will you help us?"

"You already know the answer, Dooku." Reese said, trying to calm himself. His siblings always commented about how he was so calm in the face of danger. That and his famous speed were what defined him. Well, there was no running from this situation. So his patience and endurance was what he had left.

He heard Dooku sigh in feigned disappointment.

"I expected as much."

Suddenly, hulking silhouettes materialized from the shadows, red lights blinking on and off threateningly. Reese realized they were machines. The mechanical droids positioned themselves above the Spartan, spindly limbs preparing to dive in for the kill.

"These droids will uncover the secret to your enhancements." Dooku explained. "I already have the best technicians from the Techno Union and Baktoid Armor Workshop working on your armor."

As the machines descended upon him like arachnids, the voice of the Count echoed in his ears.

"Good luck, Reese. Stay alive for me, will you?"

Not much could make a Spartan scream, but in a few hours, they could be heard through the walls.

**AN: Dun, dun, **_**duuuun!**_** How's that for an ending? Sorry about the horrible start, guys. I started getting into the groove in the middle of the chapter, so I made up for it.**

**Regarding the story: The works of the Covenant spy can be clearly seen throughout this chapter. If you didn't figure this out beforehand, well, here it is. I just wanted to clear that up.**

***IMPORTANT NOTICE*: I have decided to divide HaloSWEndwar into segments. This being the preliminary relationship between the three governments. My next story will be named Endwar: Breaking Point. Basically, the whole story will involve the twilight years of the Clone Wars and get into Order 66. Thanks for the reviews, people, I appreciate it tremendously. As always, R&R! **


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